#yes i did cram as many of the best boys into this as i possibly could <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[katsona-the-katsequel]

An Elegant Day For Koromaru

Next up is Koromaru! I wonder what amazing tales will revolve around the best boi.

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It was a pleasant Sunday with the refreshing sunlight of early summer. Today was also a good day for a walk. It might be good to go out a little earlier and take a little detour. The Shiba Inu was thinking something like that, without saying it out loud, when he got up from the stone pavement of the shrine and yawned lightly.

The dog's name was Koromaru (コロマル). It was officially spelled Koromaru (虎狼丸), but since the dog himself couldn't read, he didn't care about the difference. What he did care about was daily walks. Recently, his owner, the head priest of the shrine, died in an accident, and since then, the new head of the shrine provided him with the basic food he needed, but he didn't take him for walks or stroke his head.

Koromaru himself believed that his previous owner was his one and only master, so even if the new priest wanted to take him for a walk, it would be unthinkable for him to change his old route. So today, Koromaru went for a walk. First, he went from Naganaru Shrine, over the Moonlight Bridge, to the front of the station on Port Island. After that, he returned from the bridge towards Iwatodai, went around the town, and then returned to the shrine. This was the route for his long daily walk.

“Wan!”

In human terms, it would be something like "Let's go!" Koromaru let out a cry and began walking at his usual leisurely pace.

"Oh, Koro-chan, good morning!"

Hearing the sudden voice, Koromaru turned his head with an annoyed look on his face. It was a girl around elementary school age with braided hair tied up in buns on both sides of her head. She was the kind of girl who would always play at the shrine in the evenings.

To tell the truth, Koromaru didn't like this girl very much. It's not that he disliked her, but she did tend to pay him a little too much attention. Imagine a child, whose body temperature is higher than an adult, hugging him as if devouring him on a hot day. The hardships that the furry Koromaru faced were far beyond imagination. However, the compassionate Koromaru didn't treat such a girl lightly. Koromaru knew that this girl had had quite a hard time. Although it's not that often, her parents seemed to have a terrible fight, and sometimes she clinged to Koromaru at the shrine in the evenings to hold back her sadness. For the dog tribe, who live in packs, family and friends were as important as life. How sad must it be for them not to be able to live together in harmony? When he thought of this, Koromaru couldn't help but be kind to her, even if she was a bit annoying.

"Oh, it's time. Sorry Koro-chan, I have to go now. Ah, cram school is such a pain."

Saying that, she stroked Koromaru's head and walked off in the direction of the Iwatodai shopping arcade. Yes, this amount of skinship was just right for Koromaru. Feeling a little better, Koromaru started walking again.

With the smell of the sea in the air, Koromaru trudged across the Moonlight Bridge. Humans seemed to be grateful to come and see this place as a tourist spot, but for Koromaru, this was the most boring part of the walking route. The handrails of the bridge were too high, so Koromaru couldn't see the rumored spectacular scenery from his height. What's more, there were so many cars rushing past from the front and back, they were dangerous, dusty, and they spit out an unpleasant oily smell. It was always unpleasant.

So Koromaru walked mindlessly around this place, concentrating as much as possible on the smell of the sea, and walked steadily towards the round dome of the Paulownia Mall that he could see in the distance. Occasionally, people who were running would stop and reach out to him, but he ignored them as much as possible and just kept moving forward.

However, even so, if Koromaru was called twice, he would stop. If Koromaru didn't go to them, the human who called him sometimes looked very hurt. Hurting humans was not Koromaru's intention. So Koromaru only "reluctantly" let humans pet his head as much as they wanted. Koromaru was sometimes even proud of his personality, but he didn't realize that he was actually wagging his tail while being petted. That's the kind of dog Koromaru was.

"Hey, Koro-chan? Did you come all the way out here for a walk?"

"Oh, you're right. You have some good legs."

When he arrived at Paulownia Mall, he met a high school girl who he often saw around Iwatodai. They were not wearing their usual uniforms, but casual clothes. The girl with the long hair was wearing a pink tank top and denim jeans, and the short girl with the short hair was wearing a light blue dress. Of course, the difference in their clothes didn't really matter to Koromaru, who was a dog.

These two were quite popular with Koromaru. The one in the light blue one-piece seemed to know how to handle animals, as she stroked Koromaru in exactly the right places. The one in the tank top stroked Koromaru in a normal way, but was likable because she didn't try to be too clingy. You could really tell that she wanted to touch Koromaru, and sometimes even he wished she would touch him more. If there was anyone who could understand dog language, he'd tell them not to be shy. Well, it was not that easy, Koromaru, who was intelligent despite being a dog, thought.

"Oh, Koro-chan, would you eat something like this?"

Saying this, the girl in the light blue one-piece took something out of the bag she was carrying. It was a rod-shaped object wrapped in red plastic. The faint scent that wafted out made Koromaru's tail swing wildly in anticipation.

"Huh? It's a sausage. Where did it come from?"

"Eh? Ah, I was thinking I'd try cooking for myself for a change... I was just at the department store a while ago."

"Hmm, so Fuuka cooks too."

"Well, I guess so. Ahahahaha."

The one-piece girl seemed a bit impatient, but Koromaru's mind was already filled with the taste of the sausages that he could imagine. The one-piece girl quickly peeled back the plastic as if to meet Koromaru's expectations.

"Here you are."

“Wan!”

Without even a moment's thanks, Koromaru bit into the sausage. Come to think of it, quite a bit of time had passed since he had breakfast. This unexpected stroke of good fortune came at just the right time, and a sense of happiness slowly spread through Koromaru's heart. After all, eating something is the happiest thing. And when someone you love feeds you with their own hands, what more could you ask for?

Koromaru ate the sausage without leaving a single piece behind.

He said "Woof" again to thank her.

"You're welcome." replied the one-piece girl, and as she had more shopping to do, she patted Koromaru and the two of them set off towards a store. Very rarely, there were times like this when Koromaru's thoughts seemed to be transmitted to humans. It might just be an illusion or a misunderstanding, but that was one of the things that gave Koromaru a sense of satisfaction.

Anyway, Koromaru was grateful for the good fortune of meeting them today and decided to continue his walk. Eventually, just as he had imagined, Koromaru met someone who could understand his words, and realized that the most fortunate thing that had happened that day was that the food the girl in the dress had given him was "uncooked," but that's another story.

When he reached Port Island Station, the halfway point of his walk, the sun had passed the southern sky and it was the hottest time of the day. The open-air cafe near the station was full to capacity, being a Sunday. Usually, he would be getting hungry at this point, so he would try to be friendly with the cafe's customers, but today, thanks to the sausages he had been given, there was no need to do so.

When Koromaru looked around the square in front of the station, wondering if he should try to find a cool, shady spot, he felt a chill run down his spine, as if the fur on his back stood on end. He unconsciously curled his tail and tucked it between his legs. Koromaru knew that feeling before.

...and there she was.

A girl in a white dress sat on a bench near a flower bed. She held a large sketchbook in her hands and stared blankly ahead for a while before shifting her gaze to her hands and moving her right hand. The girl continued to work single-mindedly.

Koromaru hadn't been close to this girl for much. She hadn't done him any harm. But there was one time before, when he was in front of the girl, and she stared at him with those eyes. That was it. Those eyes still frightened Koromaru.

Koromaru, unable to speak, was unable to summarise his impression, but if he had to describe it, it would be that the girl's gaze was filled with an emptiness that was impossible for a living being to have. In Koromaru's eyes, the girl was already as good as dead.

"...Come on"

To his surprise, the girl had recognized Koromaru and called out to him. After a moment of hesitation, Koromaru approached the girl. He mustered all his strength to return his curled tail to its normal position. He felt somehow sorry for showing his fear in front of the girl. He didn't know why.

As Koromaru approached, the girl flipped through several pages of the sketchbook she was holding, and eventually showed him a picture. The outlines had inconsistent strength and weakness, and the colors were unstable. To be honest, being a dog, Koromaru had no way of knowing whether a picture was good or bad, but there was something overwhelming that came across in the picture. It was the image of "death'' itself, which all living things in this world were destined to fear.

"This is for you."

Hearing this, Koromaru tilted his head and looked at the picture again. He didn't quite understand, but his keen senses as a living being sensed another image contained within the picture.

Was this a dream?

In the negative image of death that filled every corner of the paper, there was a faint hint of a yearning for life, like a white hand reaching out towards the sky, clinging to it from the middle of a bottomless black swamp that stretches to the horizon.

"Normally, I wouldn't show it to anyone, but since you took it upon yourself to model for me, I thought I might just..."

Without making eye contact, the girl muttered an excuse and quickly folded up her sketchbook. "Hmmm."

Koromaru snorted fondly. The image of the mysterious death that haunted the girl had not faded in the slightest, but he still felt a tiny, tiny presence calling for help. However, the girl did not understand such feelings.

Holding a sketchbook that seemed out of proportion to her small body, the girl walked away without a word.

He could not save her from that emptiness. Instinctively sensing this, Koromaru felt a little sad. And then, he realized.

...he wanted the power to protect someone.

He was surprised at how strongly and overwhelmed he was with these feelings. They were like a fire that had been quietly smoldering somewhere he hadn't noticed since his beloved owner died in a sudden accident.

After that, Koromaru took a long walk around the Port Island Station area to cheer himself up.

There were a lot of interesting people today, and even though he wasn't barking or groaning, one was like, "Hey! I don't like dogs! They say dogs can tell who's bad, so I'm sure they'll bite me! Shhh! I'll sue you and get compensation!" He also tried to follow the male students from Tsuki High School who were stalking the female students. Then, feeling a little better, Koromaru left Port Island and headed home along the same route he had taken.

Resisting the temptation of the smell wafting from the shopping bags of housewives chatting with at Paulownia Mall, he made his way across the dusty Moonlight Bridge, and took a quick detour to Iwatodai Station, which was also his usual route.

Coming to this area, the sun was already setting, even though it was a summer with long days. A variety of delicious smells wafted from the numerous food stalls in the shopping district in front of the station. What particularly caught his eye was the fragrant smell of burning sauce. It was the smell of takoyaki, which he had only eaten once before.

On a whim, the owner tossed some takoyaki to Koromaru while he was out walking, and they were the tastiest takoyaki he had ever tasted.

"Actually, octopus and squid are bad for dogs and cats. But look, ours doesn't have octopus in it."

The shopkeeper had said that, but Koromaru didn't really care. However, he felt bad that he had gotten into the habit of stopping around here, hoping that the shopkeeper would feed him just one more time.

Koromaru walked through the shopping district, trying to endure his hunger. Unfortunately, today, no one seemed interested in giving him food. The meals always provided by the new priest were not enough for Koromaru. He was a little tired today, so maybe it wouldn't be enough. Just when Koromaru was preparing to endure his hunger and go to sleep tonight...

"Hey, isn't this Koro-chan?"

A voice came from behind.

Wagging his tail, Koromaru ran towards the source of the voice. Except for his dead master, there was probably no one else Koromaru loved the most.

"Come on, don't hurry."

Saying this, the man took out a container from his pocket, placed it on the ground and opened it. Inside was some kind of stewed meat. He was often seen around the Iwatodai Shopping Arcade and Port Island, and at some point he began bringing food to Koromaru on a regular basis. He was a kind person, although he spoke rudely.

"Okay, that's good. Eat it."

As always, Koromaru dutifully barked a thank you and then began to eat the food that had been served to him. Koromaru didn't care much for the taste, but the meat was delicious. Not too strongly flavored, with just the right amount of texture, it was a world apart from the dog food served at shrines. As he ate, Koromaru thought, a lot had happened, but today had been a good day overall. Would tomorrow be a good day too? Either way, Koromaru would just live each day to the fullest, and his daily walk would likely continue unchanged. Protecting happiness that is within his reach is what was important to Koromaru, and this was certainly true for all living things.

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Tag List: @kerto-p

[lunetual]

content creator tag game: coloring before & after! (afters, although i hope you can tell, are the top/right portions of the gifs).

thank you for the tag, @heseung! 💛

i rely heavily on the camera raw filter + selective color adjustment layers + gradient maps. and despite almost NEVER reusing psds because i more or less color every video from scratch, i still obsessively save them like a file-hoarding magpie. uh in terms of style! i think i’m still trying to land on it, but i tend to lift my whites and most of the time i have a little s-curve going on to deepen my blacks as well, unless i’m going for a softer overall effect! i also try to stay away from magentas/purples and actively will eliminate them when i can.

tagging @rebekahflies @myburninghands @dreamaze @20cm @beomkai @97choi @napofastars @inhypen @heeseunq​ @sim-jaeyun​ @jaehyukkies​ @cobiu @2kid + anyone who hasn’t done this yet and wants to! also besties i am sorry if you’ve already done this and i haven’t seen, in which case <3 tag me in comments or something so i can yell over your coloring! and as always no pressure ofc, only if you want to

[10moonymhrivertam]

Concept Fic!

It kind of fell apart once I put it to paper, likely because there’s not any obvious stakes here. I’m partly sharing just to share, partly wondering if y’all have ideas on where it could go. Gonna leave author’s notes included for now

Sandman (TV), Hob, Time Travel, Orpheus

Stuff that didn’t make it from my head to the page included

• him mentioning what he said about death before I made him too nervous about it

• the fact that his complaints were that things were moving so fast lately, too much technology crammed into the last two centuries, then right behind it complaining a century was too long

• I think I’m conceptualizing this as “yes the 2022 meeting happened but Dream was so happy to lean on habit and Hob was so happy to see him that Hob didn’t ask his name and Dream forgot to give it” but was wishy washy about it

• Looked at the Pronounce Names yt channel for non-English pronunciations

*****

“Hey.” The careful word finally broke through Hob’s fear and confusion and made him lift his head. There were two people who’d squeezed into the narrow alley after him. It seemed the man had spoken, squatting in front of him, but the woman was still standing behind him, casting a look of concern over them.

“Hey,” Hob said slowly. “How did you -” His voice was shaking too badly to finish the sentence and make sure he conveyed his meaning - just a moment before, the man had been among the many speaking an unfamiliar language out on the main streets, where Hob was getting stares for his clothing and complete inability to communicate.

“A gift I inherited from my father, though it doesn’t come as easily to me. Are you alright?”

“No.” Hob dropped his head again, pressing his forehead into the knees he was hugging to his chest.

“What’s wrong? Maybe we can help.” The man smiled warmly - well, he was more boy than man, really. Possibly younger than Robyn had been when he died. And maybe honesty would bite him in the ass, but somehow, someone was speaking the latest English to him, despite the Grecian architecture and Ancient Grecian fashions and carts and - he swallowed hard and freed a hand to push his hair out of his face.

“Best as I can figure, maybe I...pissed off...time?” He guessed wildly. His maybe-savior rocked back on his heels, eyebrows rising. “It’s just - I was drunk, and I was a bit maudlin, so I was complaining.” He took a breath; muttered to himself: “It’s like when I was thirty all over again.”

“I’m guessing that was longer ago for you than it seems.” The boy said it so...levelly. Like it was normal. Right. Ancient Greece. The kid probably believed - knew(?) - that the gods could walk among them if they felt like it. Wait. A gift I inherited from my father - was he talking to a demigod?

“Well, if I’m right, it hasn’t even happened yet,” he said, surprisingly lightly, because his chest still squeezed at the idea of just giving out the truth.

“When do you belong, then?”

“I don’t think our calendars exactly match up.”

The boy huffed like Hob was being difficult, and - fuck, that was fair, he did have an idea.

“Think I might be a few thousand years off-set,” Hob admitted.

“What did you do?” The boy sounded almost in awe of him. “You said you weren’t even speaking to him directly?”

Before he could open his mouth again, a shadow fell over the mouth of the alleyway. The woman turned and gave a little wave. The shadow nodded and - greeted her? It would make sense. He stepped into the alleyway with more ease than the rest of them had, and he stopped behind the woman. All at once, the air punched out of his chest. He knew that hair, that face, those eyes. He craned to see if there was a ruby around his neck, but he was at entirely the wrong angle. When his stranger spoke, it was in what was probably Ancient Greek, and Hob would swear on whatever was handy that he heard the word ‘Orpheus’ in there. [Orpheus, where have you been? Your mother’s been looking for you.]

Orpheus spoke over his shoulder and gestured at Hob, seeming to ask his stranger a question. His stranger looked at him and frowned. [Sorry, we were on our way. We met someone having some trouble. Any ideas?]

“Who are you?” He asked. Hob blinked.

“That’s different,” he said dazedly.

“Different?” Orpheus pressed. “Oh, do you know Morpheus?”

Hob had several thoughts on that name that he had to pack away very, very quickly, because he was already dealing with too much else.

“Yeah, a bit. He knew my name when we met, but - I don’t think we’d done this.” Hob gestured vaguely in a way that he hoped encompassed the alleyway. “Hey, what’s your friend’s name? Because if I’m making the right assumptions, then it got butchered bad when it got anglicized.”

He repeated the word that Morpheus had said, and then concentrated and said: “Eurydice. Oh.” He grimaced at the sound of it.

[man this was so good in my head a minute ago. I think maybe he actually had the courage to mention the death thing in the version in my head and that was what Morpheus interrupted and I can’t quite figure out how to keep this conversation on track on paper]

“What’s going on? You say we’ve met before?” Morpheus nearly interrupted.

“Yeah, sort of, um - I think I pissed off time?”

“You spoke with him?” And Morpheus had definitely changed over the years, because Hob was pretty sure his stranger wouldn’t have outright scoffed like that.

“No, but as far as I’ve gathered, I’ve never spoken directly with death, either, and I’m well past six hundred now.”

“You know neither Time nor Death...yet you know me?” He asked skeptically.

“We’ve met a few times.” He did not dare say that they were friends.

“In the Waking or the Dreaming?” Morpheus asked, and that - wouldn’t have made sense before, but he felt it should now that he had a name for him.

“I was awake, I think,” he said, bewildered. Orpheus said something in Greek, and Morpheus fired back at him. [Dad, he’s got a lot going on, you’re stressing him out. / His story is awfully lacking in detail, wouldn’t you agree?] Hob suspected things would’ve gotten heated if it weren’t for a voice out in the street, calling for Morpheus and Orpheus. Morpheus’s face melted into something soft and fond at a speed that took his breath away. Hob recognized a name in what he said - Calliope, though the stresses were different - [Down here, Kalliope] and then there was a fifth person in the alley. There was a lot of Greek once she got there, back and forth between them all, but Hob was eventually invited by Orpheus to come along with them.

[dhwty-writes]

hi! I have a prompt, if you like: what if Geralt hangs up mistletoe to get Jaskier to kiss him? :)

ELLIE, what a galaxy brained concept! It’s so silly and the gay panic is rampant in this one, my friends. The Kaer Morons being a bumbling pack of idiots and Geralt ridiculously pining after Jaskier? Coming right up!

Summary: Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir. 

Warnings: NONE, this is tooth-rotting fluff

Read on AO3

There was a conspiracy of the highest order brewing in the Continent involving no less than four witchers, their horses, a goat, and an unsuspecting bard. It is known under many names, including, but not limited to, Operation Home Sweet Home, Gods Save us from your Fucking Pining, and Get Vesemir's Blessing (and Mission Let's Get Geralt Laid, but that was from Lambert and therefore stupid).

They had laid out the Conspiracy in a set of carefully calculated steps last winter with the help of Vesemir's Wise Words and truly copious amounts of alcohol. Once he saw the whole list sober, Geralt had nearly chucked it into the fireplace out of mortification. Good thing Eskel and Lambert had been nearby to wrestle the slip of paper out of his hands.

Only after the creation of at least half a dozen copies was he trusted with it again. He frowned down at the sheet. It was simple, really. A simple ten-step-plan. He could do that.

Step One: Stop fucking staring out of windows and sighing longingly. (Shut up, Lambert.) Get back on the Path and find Jaskier.

Now, at least that was easy enough. Not for the first time since their acquaintance they had agreed upon a meeting place to come find each other as soon as the snows would allow it. Most of the years Geralt would arrive a little late; because even if they chose a spot closer to Kaer Morhen than Oxenfurt, the Killer was usually impassable for a long time.

A few years they had been lucky and could set out relatively early in spring. Geralt hadn't felt lucky at all, sitting in a lonely tavern corner day in, day out, waiting for a familiar bright-coloured bard to fill his life with light again. He had felt terrified, most of all.

So, this year when he set out to the Path, an already crumpled list clutched tightly in his hand, he was even more on edge than normally. He didn't think he could take Step One failing already, and the mortifying possibility of Jaskier lying dead in a ditch. He might just climb up that mountain again and never come back down.

Luckily, Geralt — and Vesemir — were saved from that miserable fate. When Geralt threw open the tavern door in some backwater Kaedwen town, Jaskier was there already. He was peacocking around in his usual manner, enticing his sparse audience with his captivating presence. When his eyes fell on Geralt, though, his three half-drunk spectators were soon forgotten.

The bard gasped and slung his lute onto his back, vaulting off the stage to come rushing over to him. "You're here!" Geralt stood ready, his arms spread wide to catch Jaskier when he flung himself at him in an overenthusiastic hug. "I missed you." Jaskier slung his legs around Geralt's hips and buried his face against his shoulder, clinging to him as if for dear life. 

Geralt held him tight, deeply inhaling the familiar scent, a mix of honey, grapes, and cinnamon. He was used to this by now. He didn't mind. Truth be told, he craved it.

"Hmm," he answered, acutely aware of the stares they were attracting. Geralt decided he didn't care. "I... missed you, too."

"You did?" Jaskier pulled back and beamed at him. Just a week ago he had thought he would kill to see that smile again as soon as possible.

"Hmm," he agreed. Now he knew he knew he would die for it.

Jaskier wriggled in his grasp as a sign he wanted to be put down again. "You certainly know how to sweep a man off his feet, darling," he announced with a cheerful wink. "I don't think you've ever told me you so much as enjoyed my company before, let alone miss it."

"Hmm." Hadn't he? He could've sworn he had.

"None of that, now, let me just grab my bag and we can be on our merry way." Without another word, Jaskier rushed up the stairs in the back of the tavern.

Geralt stood uncomfortably in the door, waiting for him to return and doing his best not to attract too much attention. 'Hurry up, Jaskier,' he thought impatiently.

"Oi!" the bartender shouted. "Yer the witcher? The one of the songs?"

"I am."

The man nodded and threw something at him, humming a very distinct tune. It was a ducat. Geralt pocketed it with a sigh. He hadn't missed that.

He didn't have to wait long before Jaskier came barrelling back down the stairs, a much too large bag Roach would have to carry again in tow. "Well," the bard straightened his crumpled doublet, which, for some reason, now gaped open and showed off the pristine shirt underneath. Geralt tried not to stare, "where are we off to?"

"Toussaint," he answered, holding the tavern door open for him.

"Toussaint!" Jaskier exclaimed excitedly. "I love Toussaint."

"Hmm," Geralt said. 'I know,' Geralt thought, 'that's why we're going.'

With their reunion out of the way, it was time to proceed with the plan:

Step Two: Travel with Jaskier. Be nice to him (no fillingless pies!)! Compliment him! Laugh at his jokes!

That part was significantly more difficult than the first. Not that he lacked compliments for Jaskier, quite on the contrary. They, however, posed not one, but two difficulties.

The first was one of his own making: voicing his thoughts with actual words. In the privacy of his mind he had a myriad of compliments. 'You're beautiful,' passed through his head when he saw Jaskier bathed in the golden light of sunset. 'You smell nice,' after a day at the coast, salt encrusting Jaskier's hair. 'You make me smile', 'You make the loneliness go away', 'You're the best bard I could wish for.' None of them were quite eager to leave his mouth.

When they finally did, it was awkward. They didn't sound at all how he imagined them. "What are you looking at?" Jaskier asked.

"Something on your face," he answered. 'Yeah,' he thought dumbly, 'sunlight.'

Or: "Geralt, are you sniffing me?"

"You smell." He still cursed himself months later for omitting the simple word 'nice'.

After a while he got better at it. He could manage an "I like your voice" without stumbling over it, or a "Your outfit looks nice and smooth." It wasn't an "I love listening to you sing and say my name; you make it sound like something that is worthy of affection" or an "I love that you wear silk as soft as your skin and could spend days caressing it without growing tired of it" yet, but he was getting there.

What came then, once he was able to say a simple nice sentence to his bard, was somehow even worse. Jaskier was clumsy, that was nothing new, but this season it was on a whole different level. Whenever Geralt so much asked him about the song he was working on, the bard stumbled over his own feet; with every smile or laugh he nearly dropped his precious lute.

But nothing beat that time they happened upon a particularly clear and blue lake and Geralt had leaned over to tell Jaskier: "I like it. It reminds me of your eyes. Just as pretty." The poet had nearly plummeted right into it, which would have been very unfortunate indeed, since he hadn't convinced the nymph living in it to migrate yet.

In the end, Jaskier's utter lack of equilibrium sense led to Geralt offering him to ride on Roach. That was much better. Sometimes they rode double, too. He liked those days especially, when he had an excuse to hold his bard close. The days when Jaskier would sigh and lean back into his touch he liked most of them all.

Slowly, they settled into a familiar rhythm. It was awkward at first, but soon they became used to the change of their relationship. And it wasn't as if everything changed. They still bickered and insulted each other, and laughed and told stories. It was just right; Geralt almost didn't notice how summer came to an end.

But it did, and when the first leaves started coasting to the ground it was time for the next step.

Step Three: Ask him where he will spend the next winter.

It was probably the most mortifying thing he had to say to Jaskier yet. They were sat at a campfire one early autumn evening, Geralt trying to look busy cleaning his sword and Jaskier preoccupied with his lute. Once he finally worked up the courage to ask, he stumbled over his words like a school boy; he even blushed, for fuck's sake! It was embarrassing.

Luckily, Jaskier didn't seem to notice, too busy tuning his lute. "Why, in Oxenfurt, of course. Why do you ask, Geralt?" he answered nonchalantly as if Geralt wasn't just leading the most daunting conversation of his entire life.

'Fucking great,' he thought. Now it was time for Step Three.5: Ask Jaskier to come home with you, you fucking idiot.

"Hm," he said.

Jaskier laughed. "Talkative as always I see." He smiled at him brightly and turned back to his lute. "Alright then. Keep your secrets."

"Hmm." This wasn't getting any easier. "Jaskier."

"Yes, dear?"

His heart fluttered with the pet name, so much that Geralt nearly bit his tongue off in the process of trying to voice his question: "Would you like to stay with me?"

The lute gave a dissonant twang that made both of them wince. "Excuse me, what?" Jaskier stammered, his voice much higher than normally.

"Hmm. I just thought..." He frowned. 'Shit.' He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. This had been doomed from the beginning. "Forget it, it's stupid."

"No, no, not at all!" Jaskier scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Geralt's side. "Where would we be staying? I suppose you could come to Oxenfurt with me, but it could get a bit crammed and-"

"Kaer Morhen," Geralt stated simply.

"Kaer Mo- oh!" His eyes lit up. "Why, yes, Geralt, I would love to stay with you."

And that was the end of that. They didn't talk about it anymore the whole evening as Geralt did his damnedest to forget the conversation had ever happened. But when he laid awake in the night, Jaskier huddled close to him — it was getting rather cold, after all — he couldn't stop his mind from whirling, excitement mixing with immobilising terror. Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen with him. They would stay together the whole winter. And Jaskier would meet his family.

With a sigh he turned over, cautiously throwing an arm over Jaskier's waist and holding him like the precious thing he was. The smile that spread on Geralt's face when his bard snuggled even closer, outshone the morning sun creeping over the horizon.

The following days and weeks, Jaskier was buzzing with the same excited energy that Geralt held within. It cost him every ounce of self-control not to turn Roach around and head for Kaer Morhen right away. But it was still early in the autumn, at least a moon's turn before it was time to go home, so they busied themselves with taking contracts and performing for sub-par audiences.

It was alright. He needed the money, after all, if he wanted to cross off Step Four: Bring Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in its entirety, including the note: Buy him some nice and warm clothes on the way - Vesemir

It was good advice, Geralt knew, as most of Vesemir's advice was. Jaskier might have travelled with a witcher for the better part of his life, but he was still only human. And winters were very cold in the northern Kaedwen mountains.

So, on Geralt's annual stop in Ard Carraigh, he took Jaskier to get him equipped with soft woollen sweaters and stockings, as well as a pair of sturdy boots, ignoring the bard's protests of how 'ugly' they were.

"You'll thank me when you've still got all your toes after this winter," he grumbled as he strapped Jaskier's bag to Roach's saddle.

After that, nothing much exciting followed. There were still a few villages and hamlets along the way to Kaer Morhen but the least of them had so much as a tavern. The ones with a real audience of Jaskier were fewer still.

Geralt couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. Quite the opposite, he loved listening to Jaskier in the privacy of their camp or — if they were lucky — the barn where they could stay the night. He loved knowing that Jaskier sang only for him. And most of all he loved the vibrant smiles he got along the way, and the tiny ones, too, etched on his face even when he curled up against the witcher at night.

During the days, Jaskier finally had to stop riding on Roach; the path was simply getting too dangerous. The way up to Kaer Morhen had never been easy, not even when there had been two dozen witchers and twice as many students living there, but since the attack they hadn't tended to it anymore. The Witcher's Trail was no easy one for humans — and it wasn't meant to be.

Jaskier, to his credit, didn't comment much on it, most of the time too exhausted or admiring to run his mouth about the difficulty of getting to Geralt's home. He was almost a bit worried, anxious even, if Jaskier's reaction to seeing the ancient ruin would just be the same kind of silent admiration.

Evidently, there had been no need. They rounded the last corner and, finally, Kaer Morhen was looming up above them. As soon as his eyes fell on it, Jaskier gasped and ran ahead. He had, apparently, forgotten about his aching limbs he had complained about just that morning. "Is that it?" he asked excitedly. "Geralt, is this it?"

"No, it's another crumbling fortress in the Kaedwen mountains," he deadpanned.

"You're mean," Jaskier accused him and turned back around to the keep. "For months I've dreamt of this moment and what do you do? You mock me, truly a horrible habit, that- oh, gods, Geralt, it's so beautiful!"

"Hmm," he answered, watching Jaskier intently. The childish glee on his face, the snowflakes dancing around him and melting in his hair. "I guess so."

"Can we go inside?"

Another barbed comment was already on the tip of his tongue, but Geralt guessed that he shouldn't ruin the moment. Not if Jaskier was so happy. "We can. Come on."

They were still a good distance away when the gates creaked open and three bulking figures stepped outside. "You're early," he accused Eskel and Lambert once they caught up to them. They weren't supposed to be there. They were messing up Step Five: Meet the family. (Lambert Eskel Lambert Vesemir first.)

"And you're impolite," Vesemir grumbled. "I taught you better, Geralt."

"Hmm," he answered and the silence that followed might've been awkward if not for Jaskier.

Thanks to him there was no silence at all, to be precise. "You must be Vesemir; Geralt told me so much about you. Dare I say, Master Witcher, I am honoured and humbled by the invitation, and am looking forward to my stay. The name's Jaskier and I am at your service," he concluded and bowed with a flourish.

The three witchers gaped at him in surprise and Geralt couldn't help but grin. No overly detailed stories by him could've possibly prepared them for... well, Jaskier. "What," Lambert muttered quietly, "the fuck?"

"Now, that's just rude," Jaskier said as he straightened himself, "don't you think? Geralt, your brother is being rude to me."

It was all he could do not to laugh freely. Instead he shrugged and said: "Told you he's the rude one."

"Oh, you're Lambert!" The bard grinned widely and stretched out his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

Lambert huffed in surprise and shook the offered hand. "Tell you what, bard, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended."

"Offended," Geralt mumbled just as Eskel said: "Flattered."

Jaskier smiled widely and wickedly. "Both."

Lambert opened his mouth, presumably to return a rude comment, but Jaskier's attention was diverted by Eskel, who gave him a thorough once-over and then nodded. "Welcome to Kaer Morhen, bard."

"Thank you, uh, Eskel?" he hazarded a guess.

A smile tugged on the unscarred corner of his mouth. "That's right."

"Dinner's in an hour," Vesemir cut in. "Maybe you could show our guest to his room, Geralt?"

Right. With the meeting out of the way it was time for Step Six: Show him to his room (Make sure it has some nice fur rugs - Vesemir) (Shag him on the rug - Lambert) (Offer to stay with him if he's cold - Eskel). Both of those additions seemed equally daunting to him.

But before he could even think of an excuse as to why he couldn't do that right now, Roach's reins were ripped from his hands and they were being pushed towards the keep.

"Well, they're certainly eager to get rid of you, considering they haven't seen you for a year," Jaskier quipped once they were inside the keep proper.

"That's not- hmm." 'Fuck.' He had almost betrayed himself. "They'll be different after dinner," he promised. "Besides, you know they can hear you."

"So?" He huffed a laugh. "I know they're just like you; all bark and no bite."

He was about to deny that claim but Lambert's offended howl that reached him from the courtyard quickly changed his mind. That definitely was worth the jab at his own ego. "Come on," he urged, smiling, "no need to continue playing the jester for them any further."

"Why, is there any issue with providing entertainment for a living?" Jaskier teased.

"Only if it's at the expense of me."

He sighed dramatically. "That I know, my dear. That I know."

"Jaskier?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to give you a tour of the keep."

"You are? Oh, I wouldn't have noticed." Geralt shot him a dirty look. Jaskier snickered maliciously, the bastard. "Oh, yeah, yep. Shutting up. Go ahead, Sir Witcher, show me your magnificent home."

From anyone else it might've been mockery. It might've been mockery from Jaskier, too, if not for the sound of absolute awe in his voice as he took in their surroundings.

Geralt could hardly blame him. It might've been a long time since he had arrived at Kaer Morhen, but he still remembered how dumbstruck he had been at the sheer immensity of the place that should become since home.

It had lost its mysticism since then, but seeing Jaskier's childlike wonder as he led him through the kitchens and great hall made him remember. He showed him the library, too, as well as the stairs down to the hot springs that he must never, ever confuse with those that led to the laboratories.

He closed with the rooms the various witchers claimed as their own: "That's Lambert's room down the hall, don't go there, he's a prick; Vesemir is a few floors below us, claims he's too old for our squabbles; that's mine, and that one's Eskel's, ask him if you need something and I'm not there, not Lambert, he's an arsehole-"

"Geralt," Jaskier said soothingly and put a hand on his arm, "you're rambling."

"Am I?" he asked confused. "Don't think so."

"There's no need to be nervous, dear. I won't abandon you; you're stuck with me for the winter."

"I'm not nervous," Geralt insisted, his fingers twitching nervously.

"Right," Jaskier took his hand away, evidently not very convinced. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, then."

"Don't be," he mumbled, not quite able to tear his gaze from Jaskier's gentle smile.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"Do I-" He started fidgeting with his lute strap. "Do I have a room, too? I mean, not that I mind sharing with you, that's not the issue at all- gods, I sound stupid-"

His eyes still trained on Jaskier, he reached behind him and opened the door. "There."

"That's my room?" he asked without turning around to look inside.

"That's yours," Geralt confirmed. He had prepared it last winter already. Just in case.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the poet whirled around and rushed into the sparsely furnished room. He looked very much... out of place. The realisation hit him like a slap in the face; but apparently the visual of Jaskier and his bright purple doublet in the grey empty walls of Kaer Morhen was what it took for him to realise how little they were reconcilable.

For the first time in his life he felt self-conscious for his home. "'S not much," Geralt mumbled.

"It's wonderful." Jaskier beamed, carefully inspecting the bed and the rug, peering out the window and into the chest. "Might get a bit cold, though."

He grumbled something he knew to be unintelligible to humans into his beard.

"What was that, love?"

"You could always stay with me," he spoke up. "Y'know. We've shared before."

"That we have! You might find that before long you will be forced to let me take you up on your generous offer."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and left him to it, in order to complete Step Six.5: No, let him arrive first, you idiot! There would be no 'being forced' of any kind, but he wasn't quite ready to admit that to Jaskier, yet.

Despite their apparent incompatibility Jaskier settled into the routine of Kaer Morhen disturbingly quickly. Though 'settle into' wasn't quite the right choice of words. More like 'tear it down and build it anew, but with lyrics, laughter, and luminosity'.

The evening of their arrival was truly mortifying, the worst mix of embarrassing stories of Geralt's childhood and very inappropriate questions directed at Jaskier. Geralt had spent the whole dinner frozen in shock and awe at the masterful display of the bard's craftsmanship.

After an hour of vicious cross-examination, the three witchers had finally backed off. And as Vesemir had retreated to his rooms, Lambert had brought up the alcohol. It hall had spiralled out of Geralt's control after that.

Within the hour Lambert and Jaskier were japing and jabbing at each other as if they were lifelong friends and not acquaintances since a few hours. It took his bard three days to have Vesemir completely wrapped around his finger, intently listening to his droning lectures about basically everything. And not even a fortnight into their stay, he found Jaskier and Eskel in the library, talking with hushed voices. He quickly retreated but not before he heard Jaskier telling his brother how beautiful he was, scars or no scars, and Eskel sniveled quietly.

A month since their arrival saw them trapped into the castle by the heavy snowfalls. Unfortunately, that didn't stop Vesemir from drilling them mercilessly.

They were an hour into their morning routine when they all perked at the sound of soft footsteps passing through the hall. "Jaskier," Geralt said softly.

The bard was bundled up in several quilts, his face barely visible beneath the mess of his hair and the blankets. Still his face lit up with the brightest smile when he saw them. "Mornin', lads," he croaked, "lookin' good, keep it up." He gave them a tired thumbs-up and shuffled off to the kitchen, where Vesemir would provide him with a hot breakfast with a side of 'most-boring-information-on-this-earth'. It was their own morning routine of sorts, and the three of them knew it wouldn't be long before they were discussing the 'merits of the iambic pentameter in 10th century love poetry' or some shit.

"Fuck," Lambert cursed once they knew Jaskier to be out of earshot, "I really can't blame you, Geralt. Too much time with him and I start gawking like a love-sick idiot, too."

"Hmm," Geralt agreed. Jaskier definitely had that effect.

"Jealous, wolf?" Eskel inquired with a knowing smile.

"No," he answered earnestly. If anything, he loved Jaskier more for it. His family wasn't easy to deal with, he knew. But his bard didn't care. He had so much affection to give, even for witchers. 'Especially for witchers.' He closed his eyes with a happy smile.

"Y'know, there's still a couple of steps left on our list," Eskel informed him casually.

Geralt's eyes snapped open as his heart sped up. 'Fuck.' The plan. "Hmm."

"Just fucking get it over with," Lambert yearned. "Your pining isn't any less obnoxious just because he's here."

"If anything, it's gotten worse," Eskel agreed.

"So?" he snapped. He had put it off, that was true. Had waited for the snow, he told himself, but now the snow was here and-

"So, we'll distract him this afternoon," Eskel interrupted his spiralling thoughts.

"And you pull your head outta your arse and fucking follow through," Lambert added.

"Fine," he ground out. "We do that." Not before he kicked both their arses during their training, though, for being such utter dicks.

Before long, however, the inevitable happened. Morning passed over to noon, and, true to their words, Lambert and Eskel whisked Jaskier away after lunch. They left Geralt behind in the hall with a branch in his hands and nothing left to do but complete Step Seven: Hang up a mistletoe.

"Fuck," he muttered. Nearly one year had passed since they had come up with their conspiracy. One year to gather his courage, one year to come up with a plan, one year to at least think about where to fucking put it. "Fuck," he said again, for good measure.

He looked around. Looked to the rafters. Looked at the mistletoe. "Fuck it," he declared and tucked it away to scale up to the rafters.

He was already up there, dangling from one of the beams when he remembered that he had nothing to secure it with besides the silky ribbon that would never fit around it. He scowled darkly. He sure as hell wouldn't climb down and up again. Without further ado he pulled his dagger from his belt and drove it deep into the wood, pinning the mistletoe by the ribbon.

He climbed down again, making sure that it was visible from the ground. 'Perfect,' he decreed. With the mistletoe in place, it was now time for Step Eight: Have Lambert and Eskel inform Jaskier of the mistletoe and a strategically placed Geralt. 

He spun around to go and alert his brothers, when he heard a cheerful voice behind him: "Geralt! There you are, you mean witcher, I was wondering where you were hiding. You know, it is not nice to leave your, uh- bedmate all alone and freezing in the morning, and- oh." There was a thoughtful pause. "Now would you look at that."

Geralt heaved a long sigh. He dreaded turning around, for he had a very distinct feeling he knew already what he would see. And fuck, he was not ready for that step. For some stupid reason, he still did turned around.

Jaskier stood in the middle of the hall, squinting up at the ceiling. "Are my eyes deceiving me — and they might be, mind you, my eyes are not as good as a witcher's — or is that a mistletoe I spy up there."

He cursed internally. He knew he should've hung it lower. "Hmm," he answered, his heart beating in his throat. Why was his heart beating in his throat? It wasn't supposed to do that. His voice was surprisingly calm when he said: "Seems like it."

"Oh no!" he moaned woefully. "Quick, Geralt, come here and lift the curse!"

"Curse?" he inquired bemusedly as his feet moved without his volition. "What curse, Jaskier?"

The bard gasped. "Don't you know? When someone passes beneath a mistletoe, they are frozen to the spot until the curse is broken."

"Hmm," he stepped under the mistletoe, too. He should've known Jaskier would make up a story around this. It was just a tradition, for fuck's sake, no curse. Although a curse was certainly more romantic, even he had to admit that. "Must be a rare curse if a witcher's never heard of it."

"The rarest," Jaskier insisted and pointed at his cheek. "It may only be broken with a true love's kiss."

In light of what happened next, let it be known that, in Geralt's defence, he was panicking. Quite thoroughly so. Since the Trials his legs hadn't shaken like that anymore.

He had been promised a pep talk by his brothers before having to confront the situation at hand. And yet they were nowhere to be found and Jaskier was here, evidently expecting him to kiss him.

'Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck.' He was not ready; he was not ready; he was not-

"Geralt?" Jaskier ripped him from his thoughts. "Are you waiting till my nose grows icicles, or what?"

Still, he leaned forward, placing one hand on Jaskier's hip and the other on his shoulder, and pecked him on the cheek.

The cheek. That had not been the plan. That had not been the plan at all. And then, of all things, he heard himself ask: "Can you move again?"

Jaskier blinked, looking just as dumbstruck as Geralt felt. "I- I think so?" he stammered and moved to pull away, blushing furiously.

'Fuck, no,' he remembered thinking. And while he wasn't quite in control of his limbs again, what he did next was probably the single most clever thing he had done in his entire life. Gingerly almost, he tightened his grip on Jaskier. His head tilted to the side, an invitation, an escape.

His bard didn't move. Instead, he said: "Doesn't seem like it."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and leaned in closer. "Difficult curse, seems like. Let me try again."

Before he could even think of changing his mind, Jaskier had his arms looped around Geralt's neck and crushed their lips together. He did his best to reciprocate the kiss, which wasn't easy with fear still gripping his heart tightly, but then Jaskier crowded closer, moulding his body against Geralt's and that was all it took for the tension to seep from his bones and go limb.

It was a weird sensation; being wrapped in Jaskier's arms was so familiar, but he was also kissing Jaskier, which was new- 'Great gods, I am kissing Jaskier, I am kissing Jaskier, I am-'

He pulled back with a triumphant grin, evidently startling his bard. "What?" he asked, very confused.

"I am kissing you," he announced, his grin widening even more.

Jaskier frowned. "That you are, but-"

"I am kissing you," he said again and pecked him on the lips. "And I can keep doing it."

"Oh!" The frown eased away, giving way to the softest of smiles. "That you can, my dear."

So, Geralt did. Again. And again. And again, and again, and again. He didn't know how many times he had kissed Jaskier, how many times Jaskier had kissed��him, before he pulled back and blurted: "I love you."

Jaskier stared at him in silent awe, before blushing and cupping his cheeks gently. "That you do, my love," he whispered. "And I love you, too." Softly, he pressed their lips together again.

"You do?" Geralt asked disbelievingly.

Jaskier smirked. "I do. For years and years, I have. I thought you knew."

"Fuck," he muttered. Did that mean... 'I didn't have to do any of this.' He could've just- "I'm an idiot."

"Only sometimes," he allowed, giggling sillily. Geralt was compelled to join in. "Besides, you’re my idiot, and I love you for it." He shifted a little, so he could lean his head comfortably onto Geralt's shoulder despite them being nearly the same height. 

"So," Jaskier drawled, curling a strand of Geralt's hair around his finger, "are we just going to keep standing here, or...?"

He scoffed. Of course, they wouldn't. He had a plan, after all. "Fuck." The plan.

Jaskier raised his head. "Is that a curse or an answer?"

"Yes," he answered warily.

It earned him the most beautiful snorting laugh he had ever heard. "What are you cursing at, love?"

"We skipped Step Eight," he admitted, "got right to Step Nine."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Step Nine: Kiss Jaskier." The poet just gawked at him. "I had a list," he explained.

"You had?" Jaskier's eyes lit up and he made grabby hands. "Show me, show me!"

Reluctantly, Geralt handed it over, studying Jaskier's face carefully as he read through it.

"I knew it," Jaskier concluded finally.

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on!" He threw up his hands. "You were acting weird all year round, Geralt! Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but still, weird. It took me about ten minutes to figure out there was some ploy at play." He laughed quietly and waved the paper around. "Though I never would've guessed what was amiss."

"You don't like it."

"On the contrary! It's a wonderful plan," the poet said and pecked him on the lips. "I've got to admit, though, Lambert was right: you should've just fucked me on that rug once we got here."

"Hmmm." Geralt nuzzled against Jaskier's neck, holding him closer when he tried to squirm away from the tickling sensation. "That still an option?"

"Very much so. I believe it has to be one more step before completing your list." He pulled him close and whispered against his lips: "Take me to bed, my love"

And how could Geralt refuse such a request? Especially if it coincided so luckily with Step Ten.

[takenbyheartstrings]

changing of the seasons | tom holland.

[ tom x fem!reader au || warnings. fluff, swearing, angst, implications of sex, the reader drinking || wc. 5.2k (this is a bit of a long one LMAO)  ] a/n. it’s currently 4:52 in the morning, so my apologies if this is so sloppy, but I’m writing it and heading straight to bed, praying there’s no major grammatical errors. Now, ik that uni doesn’t have frats or whatever, but it’s an au so idrc about accuracy ANYWAY, goodnight to all <3

W I N T E R

YOUR BREATH HITCHED AGAINST THE COLD AIR OF THE NIGHT, this cold of a day in London was not unusual, not welcomed, nor un-welcomed. You sort of loved the cold days, even if it rained so much that it was almost impossible to leave the house. It brings a sense of home to you and your roommate.

The same roommate who tried to join one of those sororities. But then chickened out last minute ‘Those girls are so fucking intimidating... I dunno how anyone does it!’ You laugh as you remember the day she came back to the dorm in shambles, only slightly tipsy. She really was the party type - but you had obligated to stay back at the dorm and watch Netflix or something, she found you coddled watching and reading. It wasn’t an unusual state for you at all, and you partied sometimes, Katie had mocked you previously, for acting as if you’re ‘Not like other girls.’ But you had to disagree, she was being ridiculous.

But that’s not where the story starts, ironically; the story starts at one of those terrible parties. Katie had dressed you in a nice pair of high waisted jeans and a tank top. You felt like you were wearing a little too less, which wasn’t a bad thing at all. You were just a little shy, so you slipped a jacket on top. In your defence: ‘Kate! It’s freezing outside!’

You were at a party where everyone knew you as the smartest kid in possibly the grade - you weren’t bullied or anything, but you weren’t popular either. Everyone knew you, and you knew them. You weren’t friends with them, but you weren’t not friends with them - you were the middle ground; the mediocre.

But in the whole time you were at this party, you managed to see the one person you didn’t like at all, and who didn’t like you.

Tom Holland was a stuck-up brat who didn’t know any better than to slack off in class, drink until so drunk he could barely speak properly, make comments about people that were anything but nice, and to make things even better, cheated on his girlfriend, and still, no matter how much he annoyed you, how much he despised you, how much the two of you tried to avoid each other... the two of you always managed to get in each other’s way.

You didn’t even knew how Tom Holland managed to slither his way into your life. But he did, and although the two of you disliked each other (although, it’s not a strong enough word), he always needed. your. help.

You saw it coming when he walked up to you at that stupid party, “What do you want, Thomas?” You questioned, your arms crossed over your jacket like they had been the whole night, a red solo cup sat in your hand.

“I need your help, passing another class.” He speaks and you can’t help but roll your eyes, you had a tutoring service, you knew what you were getting yourself into - but you didn’t think this one particular person would keep coming back for every test. There had to be something he was good at! How would he have gotten into uni if he weren’t?

You chuckled, “Is there seriously nothing you can do on your own?” You question him airing your thoughts.

You’re sat in a corner, and Tom is a charmer, so naturally, his hand leans onto the wall, keeping you in your place, he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt that suggests he’ll be sleeping in it tonight after he’s blacked out on his own bed, “Look, princess,” He almost spits, “Help me out, it’s the least you can do for me, after all, you’re the one making the money.”

and although, ALTHOUGH, you hate Thomas Stanley Holland with almost every single bone in your body...

you can’t help but feel a flutter in your stomach when he calls you princess.

You look him in the eye, almost slightly flustered, biting your lip, “Fine, I’ll teach you, just come by my dorm tomorrow at four and we can get started.”

“I have practi-” You cut Tom’s words off with the knife of your tongue.

“I don’t care what you have, if you won’t pass, there won’t be any practice at all. So I’d keep your mouth shut.” Tom takes note of your poisonous tone, nodding before he leaves you be in the exact same spot he found you in.

That night you went home with Katie, she was sloshed and drunk and could throw up all over you at any moment, but you were so tired. You wanted to hold her hair back, you so truely did, but you tied it up and let her be, despite her saying it was okay and to get some rest - you really did feel bad, and she should’ve taken her own advice.

The next day you didn’t have any classes, so you were determined to cram as much alone time in before Kate or Tom came to the dorm room. So you pretty much just sat on your ass all day, typing away at your computer and laughing at stupid YouTube videos in a pair of bike shorts and a baggy white t-shirt. You could see the black bralette you were wearing underneath it, but you weren’t expecting anyone so you depending on your memory to know when to change your clothes. But you didn’t think fast enough as there was a knock on your door. You walked over, expecting it to be Kate coming back from class or from getting Coffee with her girlfriend, but there’s almost so much luck for the world, and apparently, you didn’t get any at all.

“Thomas!” You shriek as you open the door wide, the dorm room was not far from a mess, but messy enough to say, “Sorry about the mess,” You invite him into the dorm room, hastily putting the blankets and pillows back into their places.

Tom walks into the familiar room, one he had been in many times and not for harmless fun. But to get his grades up. But there was a lot of things that you didn’t know about Tom Holland, a frat boy who’s life depends on the money he just so happens to have passed down to him. But Tom wasn’t the disgusting piece of crap you thought him out to be at all. The cheating? It was a rumour made by his piece of shit girlfriend, who just needed an excuse to dump him to get with her side-piece. But he was paraded for it by his friends, so he went a long with it - knowing that what was happening was so disgustingly gross and out of line. Tom to you was a bad guy, but in reality. He would be one of the nicest people you could ever know. Partially because of you.

To make it even clearer, Tom WAS that kind of guy, he’d been sleeping with everyone in sight before he got his girlfriend, to try and prove to you that he could hold a relationship, to prove to you that he was a good guy. He stopped the comments, convinced his friends to stop the comments as well. He was trying to be better because of you.

Tom tried not to look at how good you looked in your shorts and t-shirt, but his eyes couldn’t help following every inch of your body. He was trying his best, he really was. But he had to force his eyes away.

Finally after tiding up the place, slightly, you stood up properly and spoke, “Shall we get started?”

“Yes, we should.” Tom’s voice rang as you broke him out of whatever trance he was in before. He knew full well that he didn’t like you, but he didn’t know if that was him trying to convince himself, or if it was actually true - anymore at least.

You were sat down with Tom at the desk you had brought from IKEA not too long ago, you had a monitor and PC that sat in front of the two of you as you both worked on Tom’s History assignment. There was a sudden stop between the work-flow when you saw that Tom hadn’t been paying attention.

You looked at him as he looked at you, “Tom, pay fucking attention or there’s no way you’re going to pass and as much as I dislike you, I want you to do good.”

Guess being a nice person kills, huh? You can’t truely hate Tom, because there’s some mindset of yours unable to stop caring about Tom and how he does in school, because you feel bad for him.

Tom rolls his eyes, “Fine... what were you saying?” He tries to pay attention to you but you look way too good to be able to focus, so his eyes just stay on you and your voice drowns out.

You look at Tom who’s still looking at you rather than doing the work, “Tom,” Your voice shakes him out, as you shake him, your hand on his shoulder.

You yourself, didn’t realise how close the two of you were, but as your breath was on Tom’s face, and Tom’s breath was on yours. His hand moved up your thigh - and you let it. He moved closer and closer, his lips finally meeting yours as you kissed him back, the two of you stood up as you’re still kissing the air getting hotter and hotter.

Tom lifts your shirt over your head before pulling away for a minute, “Are you sure you wants this?” He questions you.

“Tom, if you keep talking, I’m going to change my mind.” You say before pressing your lips to his once more.

He unclips your bralette, his warm lips on yours, the winter’s air was nothing compared to what was happening in dorm 4B at this moment, his kisses moving down your neck to your chest, and your soft moans echo in your bedroom, nothing was stopping the two of you.

⏤

YOU AND TOM lay there, completely breathless.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ You asked yourself in shambles before standing up and getting yourself dressed.

“You need to leave,” You tell Tom as he sits up.

He chuckles, “Why?” He smiles coyly.

You roll your eyes at Tom, slipping your white shirt back over your head. You sigh heavily as you look back at him once more, “Tom, I can’t even fathom what happened here, right now.”

“We had sex, Y/N, there’s not much to unpack here.” He speaks softly, “Look, I get that you hate me or whatever,” He stands as he puts his sweatpants and jersey back on, “But I’ve never hated you.”

He grabs his shoes and slides them back on, before grabbing his backpack and leaving you to your own thoughts. That was the first time you’d ever heard him say something like that. That he never hated you. You had just assumed he did because of the way he acted towards you. You fell back onto your bed. 

You started to question your hatred for Tom, but you didn’t know how long it would take before your feelings would soon unpack, it was harder to do than expected. You thought it was black and white. But it’s a lot harder, way harder than you initially thought.

You heard the door open as Katie slammed the door behind her shut, checking in on you as her head popped into your room.

“Katie, I had sex with Tom Holland.” You spoke, almost afraid of the words that came out of your mouth.

S P R I N G

THE FLOWERS HAD STARTED TO BLOSSOM, you hadn’t talked to Tom since what happened in your room and you made every effort to ignore him or avoid him no matter how hard he tried.

What happened with him happened in January, it was now April. It had been four months, four months of just thinking. Debating with yourself and debating with your feelings. Tom didn’t make it easier to think about him either. He was trying to grab your attention so madly that it drove the two of you insane for each other.

Your phone didn’t stop pinging with text messages and emails and phone calls from the boy. It drove you mad. 

You store at your phone for longer than a minute while drinks were happening for a little girls night that Katie had planned, “Stop staring at your phone, Y/N,” Katie’s girlfriend spoke.

“Sorry,” You apologised softly, as Ciera laughed.

“Don’t apologise,” She sighed, “What’s happening for you right now is complicated, you had hate sex and you’re scared of commitment to the person you had hate sex with when he’s more than ready to commit to something you’re not.”

You whacked Ciera over their arm, “OW!” She shrieks.

“Sorry Ciera, but I’m not afraid of commitment.” You tell them, “I’m just afraid of committing to Tom himself,”

Katie walks into the kitchen, three glasses in her hand, “He’s a good person, y’know,” Katie sits down the glasses in front of you and Ciera.

“It’s true,” Ciera speaks, “He’s not as bad as you say he is,”

You end up rolling your eyes at both of their words, “I know, but I’ve just always seen him in the worst light there is, rude to teachers, to people, at parties he gets blackout drunk - always coming to me when he needs help, tries to form a friendship, forgets all about it the next day and comes running back to me again, so sorry if I’m a little on the fence.” You tell your best friends.

Ciera rubs your arm, looking at Katie, “We’re gonna leave you to cool off and think alright, we’ll be at the bar about five minutes away, we’ll see you soon.” Ciera and Katie sigh leaving you to your thoughts.

You walk over to the couch and turn on the TV, sitting down you look at the glass of drink in your hand, placing it down on the coffee table. Your dorms windows were open so you just looked at the night sky through them, it wasn’t cold nor hot. A little warm - you wished you could forget about all of the shit that was happening at the moment. But Tom wouldn’t leave you alone, he texted you asking you how you were doing, trying to grab your attention. You had to admit it, it was kind of sweet of him to text you once a day and ask. To call you to try to ask. He left a voicemail everyday too, and they were filled with nice messages for you to listen to. Just him talking about his day.

You thought of what you had said earlier, being scared to commit to Tom. You sighed as your head turned back to the TV, you felt something in you that you hadn’t felt before. A sense of urgency. You slipped on a pair of shoes and made your way to Tom’s Frat house.

It wasn’t late, so you just banged on the door. Out came Harrison Osterfield, Tom Hollands best friend - not to mention the fact that you also helped him pass a couple of his classes, he was Tom’s best friend and a good guy. He made an effort to say ‘Hey Y/N!’ in the Quad or if he sees you on your way to class.

Why couldn’t you like Harrison? you asked yourself as he met your eyes.

“Hey Haz,” You smile.

Haz chuckled, “Hello, Y/N, what can I do for you today?” 

“Do you by any chance know where Tom is?” You queried, “It’s kinda important? I dunno, but I have to talk to him.”

“Well, he’s upstairs in his room, third room on the right.” He said opening the large door a little more to let you inside.

You made your way into the large mansion (well, a really big house, but extra points for the spiral staircase in the middle of the house), the house looked different with nobody in it. There was lots of room to move around and you didn’t have to sit in one corner of the room. The floor was a pearled white marble, something you hadn’t actually seen before. You made your way up the large staircase and over to Tom’s room.

Before entering, you knocked on the door, when you walked in you saw something you didn’t want to see at all, “WHAT THE FUCK, TOM?” You almost screamed, as he looked up at you, fear in his eyes - he was obviously in bed with some blonde bitch.

“Y/N WAIT,” he hurries to put his pants on before running after you.

“NO TOM, I’M NOT WAITING FOR YOU, I CAME HERE TO BE MORE LIKE YOU’VE WANTED FOR THE PAST THREE MONTHS AND YOU’RE IN BED WITH SOMEONE ELSE, I WAS READY TO FACE MY FEARS AND JUMP INTO THE DEEP END.” You felt like you were on the verge of tears. He had done all this waiting for you, so you felt like you owe him some time, time to talk to explain himself, but it didn’t feel worth it.

Tom’s face goes red, “I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, Y/N, SO DESPERATELY AND THE ONE TIME I ASK YOU TO WAIT YOU SAY NO-”

“YOU WERE IN BED WITH SOMEONE ELSE, THOMAS,” You groan frustrated, calming yourself down, “I was afraid to commit to you, Tom. I always saw you as some shitty person, but after seeing you wait for me taking your time. I’m still not ready but I thought, ‘Hey! that’s the beauty of something scary, you never know!’” you quote your thoughts, “BUT I GUESS I WAS RIGHT.”

You made your way out the door as Tom grabbed your arm, “Y/N,” His eyes looked into yours, they were clearly sorry - but you couldn’t buy it anymore, “I’m sorry.”

You knew he was, you could hear it in the voice crack, the tears that were now running down his face. He sniffled as he held your arm, knowing that he fucked up. Although you wanted to wait, you knew you should’ve made a move sooner. You had so much time and even going into the frat house today, you didn’t even know but you knew you’d never be ready for something like this without going into it head on.

Tom fucked up by not waiting when he told you was.

Although the two of you weren’t dating, it still hurt like a knife to the chest.

“Fucking, bullshit Tom.” You said it. Immediately regretting it when it came out of your mouth.

You stormed out of the house, Tom’s hot hand leaving your skin.

S U M M E R

YOU, KATIE AND CIERA are on the beach, you’d actually flown to another country to do so, Greece was lovely this time of year.

You store into the clear blue waters as Katie and Ciera swam their lives away staying next to each other. To say the least, you were quite jealous of them. Not just because any chance at a relationship with Tom had flown out the window. You were shattered at the thought. The girls thought a nice getaway would do you good, better than Tom could ever. But they were wrong.

Now that you and Tom weren’t going to be together, you wanted him more than you could’ve wanted him before. You stood up, your toes in the sand as you called out to your friends.

“Guys! I’m gonna go for a little walk around, I’ll catch you guys back here in a little bit,” They both nodded, not giving a second thought before you walked away. This was more of an excuse to get away together and have you be the third wheel.

You walked through the streets looking around at boutiques and stores that line the streets. You walked into a few and ran your hand over the racks. You didn’t buy anything. But the thought was nice, as you walked however, you saw a familiar face standing in an Ice-Cream shop.

“Haz?” You asked as he turned to you with a smile.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, “Hey, Y/N!”

After you and Tom had the argument, you had been avoiding Tom at all costs, you hadn’t however been ignoring the other guys, and the other guys told Tom how you were doing. You would smile and talked to his friends and the second he should show up, you leave Tom in the dust and in the dark.

“So who are you here with?” You questioned Haz.

His smile falters but he catches it, “Just the boys, you know, Tuwaine, Harrison...” he trails off for a moment, “Tom.”

You sigh, “Well, I hope you guys are having a good time, I better get going, Katie and Ciera are waiting at the Hotel for me.”

Harrison groans playfully, “How about you text your friends and come hang out with us?” He smiles, charming.

“What about Tom?” You questioned.

Harrison sighs looking at you softly, “You and Tom need to talk, wether it’s under the influence, or wether it’s sober. You and him need to talk - he’s completely crushed. He has been for four months, you guys haven’t talked in four months, even before that you barely talked.”

“Look, Haz, Tom and I slept together and he pined for me and then I got him in bed with some blonde bitch and the rest is now.” You glared at Haz for even trying, but he was right - the two of you needed to talk. It wasn’t debatable anymore, you let out a heavy sigh, “But, I’ll go, you’re right.”

“Okay,” Harrison smiles, “If you want Ciera and Katie to come, they can.”

“Trust me, they’re probably very busy.” You laugh and wink as he leads you back to where the boys were partying for the night. It came quicker than it left, one minute you were on the beach, the next it was dark and you were at a bon fire, where there were only five partygoers, you and four boys.

“HARRY!!!” you hear three voices chime loudly, as you walk out Haz those cheers stop.

“H-Hey, Y/N,” Tom speaks nervously.

“Hey Tom.”

A few moments later, is what it feels like, after you’ve drunk a few drinks, you’re laughing with Tom, smiling with Tom, getting feely with. Tom. You were telling so many stories about your life during uni, during high-school and embarrassing ones at that. They traded theirs and you traded yours. It was turning out to be a fun time, and then Haz, Harrison and Tuwaine all turned in. You watched as the fire burnt in front of you and Tom, the yellow and orange flame.

You weren’t totally sloshed and neither was Tom, maybe just a little tipsy, a little more relaxed, “Tom, I’m sorry,” You spoke, “What happened between us all those nights ago - It just really hurt, Tom.”

“I can’t keep telling you how sorry I am, I fucked up,” He sighs.

You sigh, “We both fucked up, Tom. I should’ve told you how I was feeling and I shouldn’t have made you wait for me.”

“And I shouldn’t have fucked someone else,”

“You had every right to-”

“NO I DIDN’T.” He raises his voice, “I shouldn’t have slept with someone else, because I am so in love with you.”

You couldn’t believe what he had told you, “Tom I-”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, I just- I needed you to know,” He stands, walking away before you can say anything else.

A U T U M N

ALTHOUGH YOU KNEW HOW TOM FELT ABOUT YOU, you still decided to hangout with him, be friends. Figure out what you wanted to do about it. Do about your feelings for him. You felt like you were leading him on but every time you asked him about it, he assured you differently. He was okay with being friends, but you’ll always know he’ll want more.

You and Tom walked through campus, the leaves that blossomed now orange and yellow, falling from the sky - crunching under your feet, a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. You had a warm navy winter coat over your figure. Tom linked his arm with yours.

“I’ve got class,” He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket with a reminder telling him about his class.

You smile pulling him closer, “I’ll see you later then,” He hugs you and you tighten it, not wanting to let go of him, but reluctantly doing so. You watch as he walks away, Katie walking up behind you with her own cup of Coffee.

“Where’s he going?” Katie asks you and you look over at her.

“Class.” The word comes out of your mouth, almost as if you’re sad to watch him walk away. That’s because you were sad to watch him walk away.

Katie chuckles, “Let’s get back to the dorm, Ciera bought donuts!” She jumps, excited to go back.

“What kind?” You question your best friend.

She freezes, “Well she’s my girlfriend so,”

“That means that she was clearly thinking of you, so I take it they bought-”

“Jam!” Katie smiles, as the two of you walk, she skips.

This is what you wanted with Tom. You wanted him to buy you donuts and for you to get excited when he doesn’t even ask what type you want - you wanted him to just surprise you with the smallest things. Remember the smallest details. But you had missed it all, every morning, Tom brought you a coffee as the two of you headed to the only class the two of you had together, that he hadn’t asked you for your order at all, or your birthday earlier that month, he brought you your favourite soft drink, even though he hadn’t asked you what it was. Not to mention he wrapped your gift in your favourite colour. But you were so blindsided to all of that. You weren’t seeing it at all.

You got back to your dorm and left Katie and Ciera to watch TV on the couch when you headed into your room. You sat on your bed, as you looked at the shelf that sat across from it, Tom’s present sat perfectly on it. It wasn’t much, it was just a Viynl of your favourite TV Character, he had told you he wanted to get you something else - but they didn’t have it in stock anywhere. To which you assured him it was okay. You sighed at you just looked at it; store at it. Almost a minute had passed - what seemed like the longest minute of your life. So many thoughts had travelled through your head. So many questions.

All of them unanswered.

All, except for one. This question had been everything since the night you and Tom slept together for the first and only time, but looking at the present. Thinking about the late night studies or when the two of you recently developed the stupid habit of meeting in the library when the two of you couldn’t sleep, or just going on walks around the campus - laughing with each other. You were so afraid. But you were stupid for being so afriad. Tom had been a better friend than anyone could have ever been (except for Katie and Ciera of course), you and Tom had a connection that was irreplaceable. Somewhat unbreakable. It’s hard to think that you hated him. hard to think that you found him unbearable. But it was also hard to think that you could avoid him. Ignore him. Stop being friends with him.

But you just ended up together in the end anyway.

So what was the point? What was the point running from something that was always going to catch upto you anyway?

⏤

NIGHT FELL ON THE CAMPUS, you weren’t exactly sure what you were doing but it felt like the night you caught Tom in bed with that girl all over again. But this time you knew you wouldn’t. Because Tom assured you he wouldn’t. Not till you told him no. So you took his absolute word for it.

You looked at the large doors of the Frat House that sat in front of you, knocking violently, waiting for someone to open the door - It was Haz, and although you didn’t say anything. He knew what you were going to do. So he shut the door, and you took a step back composing yourself, readying yourself for what you were about to do and you could never be truely ready, but you had to trust your gut on this one.

You weren’t on the doorstep anymore, you were on the ground, in front of the stairs that lead to the House as Tom walked outside. You weren’t wearing anything special. You were wearing your bike shorts and a white shirt. You were wearing white runners and ankle-high socks. Your hair the same as it always was. You looked at the boy and his curls with a smile.

He knew what was coming - but he let you speak, “Tom, for a long time. I was scared. So fucking scared that I pushed you away. If I’m going to be completely one-hundred percent honest with you, I’ve had feelings for you from the start. But I let my thoughts get the better of me. I let myself think you were some douchebag, when in reality - you’re the exact opposite. You’re the kindest, sweetest, most caring person in the world. God, this is so cliché.” You chuckles as he laughs along with you, however, you start to tear up a little, overcome with emotions, “I always thought I was incapable of finding someone to love, someone who would love me the same way that Ciera and Katie love each other or the same way that Patrick Verona and Julia Stiles love each other.”

Tom smiles at the last reference - you had forced him to watch 10 Things I Hate About You on one of those lonely nights the two of you spent unable to sleep and you told him you cried so much at the movie - he assured you he wouldn’t. But he failed.

“Look Tom, what I’m trying to say is that-” You stop yourself for a moment. It takes everything in your body to finally spit it out. Say what you’ve been wanting to say and when you do. It feels so good.

“I... Love.. You.” You said it.

Tom bolts over to you, pressing his lips to yours it’s more desperate and hungry something that reminded you of the first night the two of you kissed. But it was just as magical, just like every single kiss to come, just like every single peck on the cheek. Every single laugh. Every single smile, hug, handhold. Every single night where the two of you will just lay next to each other. The movie nights, the dates.

All of it.

Because every single time it does. Every single time any of those happens.

You somehow manage to fall in love with him all over again.

[luxekook]

𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 | 𝘬𝘵𝘩

⇥ pairing: quadruplet!taehyung x reader

⇥ genre: crack, smut

⇥ summary: in which the reader lives next door to taehyung… and his three brothers. she doesn’t realize they’re quadruplets until it’s just a little too late.

⇥ word count: 7.5k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing/dirty talk, alcohol, general chaotic energy [as usual], one hard dom!taehyung and three soft dom!taehyungs, sub!reader, pet name: kitten, smut (breast worship, oral [f receiving], bondage, spanking, slight degrading name-calling during sex, mention of daddy kink, ownership kink, four taehyungs lovin’ on the **READER** [***NOT EACH OTHER***])

⇥ beta’d by: the lovely phia (@meowxyoong​) and the cutie ally (@ally-127), and read over by the iconic heath (@shadowsremedy)

The Kim Quadruplets:

Mic Drop!Tae as “V” Boy With Luv!Tae as “Vante” Pied Piper!Tae as “Hansung” ON!Tae as “Taehyung”

Of all the days to forget your umbrella, your brain just had to choose today. You cursed your faulty memory as you shuffled your drenched sneakers across the ‘Welcome’ mat of your apartment building. As someone who prided themselves on being prepared and dependable, you were thoroughly angry at yourself for dropping the ball. Lightning flashed through the windows of the lobby, but you barely flinched - already used to the noise after a lengthy walk home from work.

You worked part-time at a small indie coffee shop called ‘Grind On Me’, which was located halfway across town. The shop was owned by an eccentric middle-aged woman named Reese who still had not gotten over the tragic loss of Vine. The menu was full of references to the fallen application: “Oovoo Java”, “Coulda Dropped My Croissant”, “Avocado Toast, Thanks!”, and “Back At It Again With The Refill”.

The best part of your job was definitely fucking around with your co-workers Jess and Cal. Reese often scheduled the three of you together because your “combined chaotic energy” was “on-brand”. Basically, the three of you would spend your shifts roasting coffee and roasting each other, while Reese looked on like a proud mom. You loved it.

The rest of your time was filled with school. You were up to your neck in your studies; but, with just one semester left until graduation, you were more determined than ever to stick it out. As a literature major, you spent many hours hunched over your trusty MacBook, fingers flying across the keys. Creating new worlds and constructing well-rounded characters was intoxicating. Every new document was a chance to bring ideas to life, an opportunity to make someone laugh or cry, a possibility to both mend and break hearts.

But, your absolute guiltiest pleasure was writing romance - and not the lovey-dovey kind. No, you wrote the racy kind of romance: the heart-pounding smut, the kinky (well-written and well-researched) BDSM, the raunchiest threesomes. You always wondered what your professors would think if you submitted one of your erotic novels to be graded; but, for now, you settled for posting to your loyal audience on Tumblr and for fantasizing about someday fulfilling the filthy scenes you wrote about.

Your most recent fantasy was inspired by the rainfall. Kissing in the midst of a storm like people did in those cliché movies… fucking as the rain poured over you�� hands sliding down your slippery skin…

“Woah.” Hands grabbed your hips, halting you from continuing to walk forward absentmindedly. You jumped, your mind jarred from your fantasy and back to reality.

“I am so sorry,” You breathed out, “My mind was somewhere else.”

“I’ll say,” The deepest and most divine voice you had ever heard sounded from the figure in front of you. You looked up, desperate to know the source of such a dulcet tone. You were not disappointed.

The boy was beautiful.

His skin was the color of warm honey, his dark eyes sparkled with bad intentions, his full lips curled into a sly grin. “I would pay good money to know what you were thinking about just now, kitten,” The boy’s grin widened, displaying a cute boxy smile that did nothing to take away from the implications of his words.

“I’m not your kitten,” You glared at the blonde boy in front of you, shoving aside both his hands and the traitorous warmth that bloomed inside you at the pet name. With those words, you sidestepped around him and trudged to go check your mail. Your heart flipped in your chest when you heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps following close behind you.

“Ever heard of an umbrella, kitten?” You could hear his smile in his infuriating words, and you shot him a glare.

“Yes, actually. Have you ever heard of manners?” You bit out, punching in the key code to your small mailbox.

The boy’s laugh sent a shiver down your spine that you tried to rationalize as a chill. God, he was maddeningly handsome. You grabbed the small bunch of letters shoved in your mailbox and were so ready to hightail it out of there, when he grabbed your wrist.

The sight of his long fingers wrapped around your wrist made your mind flash to scenes of him holding your wrists above your head as he thrusts, hips swiveling and pounding into you… him holding your wrists behind your back as he kneels in front of you, tongue deep in your—

“Kitten.” Your attention snapped back to him, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed. Fuck, you really needed to shut your inner ho of a writer off sometimes…

He winked, “Next time you’re going to have to share what’s going on in that head of yours. I’ll be seeing you around, neighbor.”

With those parting words, he sauntered out of the mailroom, flipping the hood of his grey sweatshirt up over his wavy blonde strands as he tugged his dark bomber jacket closer around him.

Neighbor?

You were so fucked.

A few days later, you still had not forgotten your blonde self-proclaimed neighbor, no matter how hard you tried. And, god, you had tried. No amount of smutty fan fiction or archaic romance tropes could quell your thirst.

You didn’t even know his name.

Jess and Cal had urged you to just knock on his door and introduce yourself, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. First, you had more than one apartment neighboring yours. You were not about to knock on each and every door in your hallway to find some mystery boy - even if he did call you kitten and smelled like summer nights. Second, you had already written so much filth inspired by your brief encounter that you feared you might not survive being in the same vicinity as him without spontaneously combusting or jumping on him.

And third, you were just so intimidated by him and his dominating presence. Even though you spent just a few minutes with him, you knew that you would have fallen to your knees before him if he’d demanded it… And he really looked like the type to demand.

Now every damn time you entered your apartment building, your eyes sought him out. You jumped out of your skin at every ding of the elevator, half fearing and half hoping he might be getting off. Your heart pounded whenever you walked down your hallway to unlock your door, waiting for him to swing open his own door to greet you with a smirk and some sarcastic words.

But, nothing had happened. And you were beginning to think he might have just been a rain-induced hallucination. Those were a thing, right?

You shook yourself out of your disastrous train of thought. Your shift at ‘Grind On Me’ was approaching, and you really needed to make some money. Rent, unfortunately, just didn’t pay itself. Tugging on your non-slip black sneakers, you made sure to grab your umbrella - just like you had the previous couple days, despite the clear forecast. You would not be caught out - or called out - again.

You push open your apartment door, shoving your umbrella deep into your tote bag and stepping out into the hall. You were entirely unprepared for the sight you were met with.

The boy from earlier that week was fumbling near the door across from you with what looked like an entire art store crammed into half a dozen reusable bags. He was mumbling about some Han character who couldn’t “get off his ass for one second to help him”. And, his hair was a bright shade of blue.

His. Hair. Was. Blue.

You must have made some sort of choking noise because suddenly he whipped around to face you. His wide eyes latched onto yours, and you couldn’t help but think that there was something peculiar about him today - even besides the hair.

A light flush bloomed on the boy’s face that you were sure was mirrored on your own tenfold. Shit, he really could pull off that shade of blue… Your eyes involuntarily slid lower to check out his white slouchy ‘CELINE” t-shirt, his black Adidas sweatpants, his bag hung casually off one muscular shoulder. You swallowed suddenly craving some water.

“Uh, hey, neighbor,” You waved at him idiotically as he continued to just stare. You lowered your hand and fought the urge to smack yourself for your lame actions.

The boy blinked and then smiled that same boxy smile as before, “Hi! I would wave back, but I’m kind of tied down right now.”

You let out a very uncharacteristic giggle, “And I would offer to help you, but I’m already late for work. Don’t worry, I have my umbrella this time.”

Grabbing your umbrella from your bag, you waved it briefly in the air before returning it to its resting place. “Bye!” You called over your shoulder at the bewildered blue-haired boy, “Love the new hair by the way!”

“Uh, thank you?” He called after you. As you stepped into the elevator, you swore you heard him say something about having good weather with no chance of rain, but you were too busy thinking about how nice he was today.

And about how he didn’t call you kitten.

You were so, so fucked.

When you got to work, you were immediately bombarded with questions from Jess and Cal.

Jess: “Wait. His hair is blue now? Does he look like a hot Smurf?”

Cal: “So, no “kitten”? Throws phone. Stomps on skateboard.”

You: “Did you just try to use the ‘So No Head' Vine out loud?”

Reese: "She sure did." *wipes away tear proudly*

They continued to clown on you for another hour while some of your favorite regulars filed in and out, grabbing their late afternoon coffees.

One of your particular favorites was an enigmatic individual named Heath. You, Jess and Cal were about 85% certain that Heath was a sugar daddy based on his regular order (the "Valentino Flat White") and the large amount of tips he always left (at least $20 for each barista on duty).

Another favorite customer of yours was Tay. She tended to skulk in the corner of the cafe, typing away on her phone and occasionally letting out loud bursts of laughter. Once, you had asked what she was writing, but she just looked at you like you had asked for her darkest secret. You figured it was something juicy.

Sighing, you checked the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time that evening - 6:50PM. Two more hours til you could go home, throw on some sweatpants, and drink a glass of cheap wine.

Wiping down the coffee bar, you heard a throat clear behind you. "Be right with you!" You called over your shoulder, placing the wipe in the garbage before turning to take their order.

"Oh," You gasped as you took in the new customer, "Your hair!"

"My hair?" Your neighbor that you had seen just hours before tugged his hands through his now-brown waves, "Is there something wrong with it..." His dark eyes flicked to your name-tag, “(y/n)?”

"N-no," You gulped, wondering what happened to the cute blushing blue-haired boy from earlier. Your neighbor really was giving you whiplash with his different moods. "What can I get for you?"

"Your number." His boxy grin was lethal, his voice was sultry.

You blinked at him. "You could have just knocked on my door later if you needed me."

His eyebrows flew up, "Oh really? I like the sound of that. You'd have to give me your address though, kitten."

"Very funny," You scoffed. Your insides turned to mush over the return of the nickname that you hated to love. "Now, seriously, what can I get for you?"

"Surprise me," He winked, handed you $50 and sauntered to a nearby table.

Gaping, you shook yourself out of your trance and got to work on his 'surprise' - an "I Thought You Were Americano".

"Who is that?" You jumped two feet in the air at Jess' hissed question. She was hovering right behind you as you poured the espresso into his to-go cup.

"My fucking hair chameleon of a neighbor!" You whispered back, conveying your panic, “Deliver this to him, would you?“ You tried in vain to shove the hot Americano into Jess' hands but she dodged your efforts.

"Oh no, bitch,” She laughed, "I am going to watch from afar as this plays out."

"Goddamn you," You shot her your best side-eye and stalked off to deliver the drink to your godforsaken neighbor.

The boy in question flicked his eyes up to look at you as you approached his table. He was wearing a flowy button-down shirt with at least four of the buttons undone, showcasing a tan and very toned chest. His legs were spread wide, encased in tight black slacks that left little to the imagination.

You gulped, trying not to imagine yourself perched on his lap and grinding into his hard––

"See something you like, kitten?" You jerked out of your daze and looked at his amused face. "I know I do."

You decided to be bratty. "Nope, nothing too impressive for me to see." You smiled sweetly as you deposited his drink on the table in front of him.

He licked his lips slowly, "God, if you were mine..." He trailed off, eyes narrowed on yours. Your mouth dried as the image of the two of you in a dark bedroom flashed into your mind. You sprawled out across his lap, his hands smacking your ass, your underwear pulled to the side…

“Yeah, you get the picture,” Your neighbor’s crooked smirk was downright obscene as his eyes flashed to your lips briefly. “I’ll see you later tonight, kitten. You know, when I come knocking at your door.”

With that parting remark, he stood, raised his americano in your direction, and strutted out the door.

You stood rooted to the spot, gaping after him for god knows how long.

“She’s gotta move at some point,” Cal’s voice vaguely sounded from the side of you.

“I don’t know,” Jess’ response sounded from your other side, “I once saw her stare out at a speck of dust for like fifteen minutes straight.”

That got you. “It was not fifteen minutes!” You defended yourself, “And it’s not my fault that I happened to be writing a coffeehouse AU at that time!”

Your friends cackled as you stomped back behind the counter.

Your friends were evil, and so was your neighbor, of that you were certain.

And you were so, so, so fucked.

Hours later, you were still thinking about your fucking neighbor. Why were you only meeting him now? Why was his hair always changing colors? Why did he fuck with you so much? Why did you like it?

All of these questions bounced around your brain as you entered your building, your eyes seeking out the boy instinctively. But, as before, he was nowhere to be seen.

You shuffled over to the ancient elevator and punched the 'Up' button a few more times than necessary. Something must be wrong with you. You were way too infatuated with your way too infuriating neighbor.

The elevator doors parted, and you automatically sighed in relief and disappointment as you entered the empty space. Pushing the button to your floor, you waited for the doors to close.

“Wait!”

A shudder trailed down your spine as you watched the doors re-open to let the subject of your thoughts onto the lift. He was wearing yet another outfit that was different from earlier - a white tank top with loose pants adorned with decorative zippers.

And was that a fucking tattoo?

There was no way you had missed that in your previous encounters. He must have felt your piercing stare because his eyes flashed over to yours. “See something you like?”

“You have a tattoo!” You blurted out.

“Um, yeah, I do. Nice observation,” Your neighbor looked at you weirdly. “Aren’t you going to ask what floor I need?”

“You and your fucking jokes,” You rolled your eyes at him.

The boy’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you intently, “Ah, so you’re kitten.”

Your insides into jelly, and you decided the safest tactic would now be to ignore him.

“Now, now, kitten,” He crowded your space, backing you up against the elevator wall, “It’s impolite to ignore your neighbor.”

“Well, it’s against the commandments to covet your neighbor, isn’t it?” You sniffed, pretending to not be affected by his sheer size and dangerous aura. The tattoo curling up his neck demanded your attention, and you only wished you could pay your respects with your tongue.

“I’m pretty sure they said something about coveting a neighbor’s wife… you’re not married are you, kitten? Got a boyfriend, girlfriend or partner that we don’t know about?” His breath mingled with your own, his lips so close to your own.

Wait, we?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the elevator’s arrival at your floor. Ducking under his corded arms, you scurried out of the elevator and down the hall towards your apartment.

Of course, he lazily trailed after you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” You shot over your shoulder at him as you neared your door. “We just met like two days ago.”

His grin turned feral, “Yes, kitten, of course we did. Hey, why don’t you come over for a drink? You’re right; we don’t really know each other. Let’s change that.”

You weighed your options. Hanging out with him could drive you absolutely crazy or it could lead to something you previously could only write about.

He lounged against the wall next to your door in await of your answer. He raised a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, and your eyes caught a sudden flash of silver. Was that an honest to god nipple piercing you just saw?

All rational exited the building. “Sure, but only for a little bit. Let me just change real quick.”

“Great, kitten,” His eyes flared, “Wear something comfortable. Just knock when you’re ready.”

You just nodded mutely as you entered your apartment and then shut the door. What the fuck were you getting yourself into?

After ten panicked minutes of you running around your apartment in search of ‘comfortable’ clothes, you were poised to knock on your still nameless neighbor’s door. You glanced down at your cropped t-shirt, leggings and running shoes. It would do. Besides, you had your lucky lingerie on underneath just in case.

Before you could even knock, the door flew open. “I was beginning to worry you were just going to stand there all night, kitten.” Your neighbor pouts, “And then we wouldn’t get to have any fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to invite me inside?”

His lips twitched, “How vampiresque of you, (y/n).”

You smiled broadly, “If I was a vampire, I would definitely have killed you already. You’re really fucking annoying.”

He stared at you for a split second before throwing his head back and laughing. The amount of neck that was in your face was heavenly; and, suddenly, you questioned whether vampires actually had it right this whole time.

“Well, kitten. I’m Taehyung. Please, do come in,” He opened the door wider, still chuckling lowly, “Would you like anything to drink? I think we have wine and maybe some beer hiding in the fridge somewhere.”

There was that pesky ‘we’ again.

“Red wine sounds good, thank you,” You said, plopping yourself down on one of the deep wooden barstools lining the marble kitchen island. You watched as he poured two glasses and handed one to you. Just as you were about to ask if he had roommates, Taehyung held up his glass.

“Cheers to being very friendly neighbors,” He said, sitting in the stool next to yours and staring intently at you.

“Cheers,” You echoed, clinking your glasses together and then taking a sip. Your eyes widened both from the sight of Taehyung drinking – his throat tipped back, his eyes dark on yours – and the deliciousness of the wine. It was an intense ruby red pinot noir that somehow tasted of fruit and of smokey spice all at once. It was honestly so fucking good that you just knew it had to be exorbitantly expensive. You licked your lips, making sure not to miss a single drop.

Taehyung’s eyes latched onto the movement. “You know,” He murmured, “They say if you hold eye contact while toasting, you’ll keep having good sex.”

You almost spat out your second sip of wine. Just as you were about to risk it all and say you would actually have to start having sex for that to happen, a crashing sound echoed from the dark hallway to your left.

“Shit,” Taehyung cursed, glaring in the direction the sound had come from, “I need to go and check what that was. Are you all right out here for a minute?”

You shrugged and nodded, swirling your wine around your glass.

“Be right back,” Taehyung brushed his hand over your cheek for a split second before stalking down the hallway in search of whatever had caused the ruckus.

Your hand flew to your now-warm cheek. Fuck, were you really crushing on your cute neighbor with the mood-swings?

Ugh, you were.

You glanced speculatively around his apartment. It was so much nicer than yours… The minimalist but chic decor just screamed rich vibes. However, there were a few oddities that made you frown. Four sets of keys hung by the front door. Four sets of shoes were lined up in the foyer. Four different color coded markings were on the calendar pinned to the wall.

Four different versions of Taehyung smiled back at you from a photo stuck to the fridge.

“Hello again, kitten,” The low voice startled you from your internal panic. Reluctantly turning to face them, you cursed your own stupidity. The blonde version of Taehyung that you met a few days ago grinned back at you.

“Fucking brothers,” You moaned, slouching over on the kitchen island and placing your head in your hands, “You’re all fucking brothers.”

“Quadruplets, actually,” He unhelpfully added, “I’m V. You’re (y/n), right?”

“Were you all just eavesdropping on me and Taehyung, or what?” You knew your were being petty right now, but you felt blindsided by your own lack of awareness and the brothers’ obvious lack of tact.

“Kind of,” Blue-haired Taehyung exited the hallway, “Sorry, (y/n).”

It was honestly unfair how sweet Blue was. “It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Vante,” He waved at you and grinned, “See? I can finally wave back now!”

If you could turn into a human version of ‘uwu’, you would have done so right then and there.

“Stop flirting with her, Vante,” Coffee-shop Taehyung enters the kitchen followed closely by the actual Taehyung, “Let me introduce myself, kitten. I…” He gripped your hand and brought it to his lips, “Am Hansung.” His lips brushed over your knuckles as the words poured out of his mouth.

You blinked at him as it clicked, “Oh, so you’re the Han that wouldn’t get off his ass!”

Hansung choked, dropping your hand as his brothers cried with laughter. “Who said that?” He rounded on his brothers, “Who?”

Vante shot you a desperate look; and, since you had already internally declared him your favorite, you kept the information to yourself. “I don’t see how that matters when you all clearly have been keeping me in the dark about the fact that there are four of you.”

“I mean,” Taehyung began, “Technically we didn’t not tell you. You just never asked.”

Your blood boiled, “And how the fuck would I know to ask? Should I have consulted a psychic? Scoured the census data? Kept tabs on the entire population of quadruplets nationwide?”

You stared down each of the boys. Vante and Hansung at least looked a tad sheepish, but Taehyung and V just looked amused.

“You were right,” Taehyung nudged V, “She is feisty.”

You contemplated your options: 1) Kill V and bury the body deep in the nearby woods, 2) Dramatically exit the apartment and never speak to these demonspawn ever again, or 3) Chug this miraculous tasting wine.

You chose option three.

No regrets.

Looking at each of them, you felt like you could be the stock image for the word ‘shooketh’. Fuck, you had thought it was overwhelming when there was just one of them in your mind. But, now? You were in full panic mode over the sheer amount of masculinity and identical good looks that surrounded you.

“You know what?” You said after draining your glass, “I really don’t like being made to look like a fool. And that’s what you all did to me this whole week.” You saw Vante open his mouth, and you cut him off, “Some more than others… but, still, you knew where I lived. You could have just introduced yourself separately.”

You stood, glancing over the boys’ varying degrees of pouts and sighing. “Yeah, I’m out of here.”

Making your way over to the door, you were suddenly cut off by V. He leaned heavily against the door, successfully blocking your smooth exit.

“V, move.”

“No, you need to hear us out, kitten,” He murmured, looking down at you with an intense expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Could you do that for us?”

You spared a glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, the other three were right there. Vante stared at you pleadingly. Hansung shot you a wink. Taehyung snapped his gaze up to yours… Had he been checking out your ass?

Deciding not to pay them any mind, you turned back around to face V and shrugged, “Fine, two minutes.”

“Good girl.”

A shiver coursed down your spine. You didn’t even know which brother behind you muttered those two words, and, yet, perhaps that made it all the more thrilling.

V shot a glare over your head and then refocused on you. “Kitten, we’re sorry. We just really like to tease, and you made it so easy.” Seeing your glare, he continued, “We didn’t mean to make you upset. That wasn’t our intention at all… it was the complete opposite, actually.”

Taehyung moved in front of you, next to V. “Why don’t we start over? Come over for dinner tomorrow night at eight. We’ll have a proper introduction to our neighborly relationship.”

You mulled it over in your mind. Embarrassment warred with infatuation. Worst case scenarios clashed with the best of cases. Images of a dark bedroom with multiple partners contrasted with words typed on a laptop screen.

Finally, as the seconds ticked by, you decided to ask yourself: ‘What would your characters do?’

They would fuck them all.

“Okay,” You sighed, eyeing the two boys in front of you and then the two behind, “But you better make something edible.”

“Challenge accepted,” V’s eyes glinted wickedly.

“It wasn’t even––” You cut yourself off. Though you only had met V twice thus far, you knew it was virtually impossible to make him back down from anything he perceived as a dare. “You know what? Sure, it’s a challenge. I’ll be the Gordon Ramsey; you’ll be the crying contestants.”

A stifled giggle sounds from behind you that you suspect belonged to Vante.

“That mouth…” Taehyung muttered. His tongue swiped along his lower lip as he stared you down.

Suddenly, Hansung popped out from behind you and shoved his two brothers out of the way of the door. “Allow me, kitten,” He swung it open in a flourish, bowing as he cleared your way out. Your lips twitched. That boy was so extra.

“Thank you, Han,” You smiled and waved as you exited their apartment, “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night…” Walking the short distance across the hall to your own apartment, you unlock your door, step inside, and then turn back to see if they were still there.

They were.

All four of them peered back at you from their doorway. “Shoo!” You laughed, waving them away before slamming your door shut.

You were so, so, so, so fucked.

Four’s hands ghosted over your skin, caressing the dips of your curves. You shuddered as Three’s tongue slides across your pussy.

“You like that, kitten?” One asks, as he watches from the armchair in the corner of the room, “You like my brothers ruining you?” You weren’t fooled by his lack of participation; you knew One pulled the strings. “Answer me.”

“Yes, daddy,” You moan out as Two sucks one of your nipples in his mouth and asoidfjgioykl—

The ringing of your doorbell caused you to key-smash in panic. “Coming!” You called out, flustered over the interruption and over the filth you just wrote about your neighbors.

You padded over to the door and peered out the peep-hole. It was Hansung. Your breath caught in your throat as you try to push the vivid scenes you just wrote out of your mind.

Pulling open the door, you greeted him with a smile, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi…” Hansung trailed off, his eyes roving over your body. You glanced down at your typical loungewear - an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts. Nothing too out of the ordinary. “Do you have any sugar?”

You stared at him with a deadpan expression, “Are you serious?”

“I don’t joke about sweets, kitten,” Hansung grinned, running a hand through his messy head of hair. You would have to add a scene to your story about pulling on it… “There’s that look,” he shook his head amusedly, “When will you ever let us know some of those thoughts?”

“Never,” You vowed and stepped aside so that he could enter your apartment, “Come on in. I’m pretty sure I have sugar somewhere. Sorry for the mess.” You wandered over to the kitchen area adjacent to your living room. Hansung was assessing your apartment with a critical eye, and you decided you needed to make this fast before he uncovered any dirty secrets.

Pulling open your baking cabinet, you scoured the shelves looking for that pesky ingredient. Flour, vanilla extract, chocolate chips…

“How is it that four boys don’t have any sugar?” You complained, leaning up to snag your bag of sugar from the very top shelf.

“We ask ourselves that all the damn time,” You knew Hansung was smirking even without seeing him, “We’re getting some now though… and later.”

“Well, good,” You turned to face him, “You better stock up so you don’t come bothering me every time you need some.”

He laughed, “Oh, (y/n), we’ll always want more.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved the bag of sugar to his chest and pushed him towards the door to your apartment. “Out you go!”

“Oh kitten, I always knew you were sweet on me,” Hansung grinned widely as he stared down at the sugar you had pushed against his chest.

“Fuck off,” You groaned, letting out a slight chuckle despite yourself. “Now, go away and cook me a nice dinner. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye-e-e kitten,” he sang as he paraded back across the hall, “Wear something sexy for me.” With a wink, Hansung disappeared back into his shared apartment.

You groaned, slamming your door shut before sliding down it onto the floor. These brothers might be the death of you. Glancing up, your eyes settled on your laptop. Had it always been in that position? Was that how you left it?

Standing up, you walked over to where your laptop resides on your coffee table and closed it. You had a dinner to get ready for, after all. You didn’t have time to return to your story.

Alas, you really should have made time; because, little did you know, the open document on your screen had a new addition courtesy of Hansung… “That’s hot. Which number am I?”

It was 7:59PM; you were pacing inside your apartment.

You contemplated cancelling for the hundredth time that evening. But, momma didn’t raise no bitch.

With that in mind, you assessed yourself in the foyer mirror. The black midi-dress wrapped around your body like armor. The wings of your eyeliner flicked out like battle knives. The redness of your lipstick warned of the biting tongue that lie within.

Yeah, you looked ready for war, and it was perfect.

With that in mind, you trudged across the hall and knocked on their door before you could talk yourself out of it.

The door opened to reveal V in all his glory. His blonde hair was tousled, his eyes were dark. He looked at you as if he knew all of your secrets.

You bit your lip, “Um, hi?”

A slow smile crossed his face, “Hi, kitten. Please come in.”

You moved past him to enter into the apartment. Taehyung appeared and greeted you with a grin. “Hey, (y/n),” He purred, running a hand down your arm, “Glad you could make it.”

God, what was up? The tension in the room was palpable. You walked over towards where Hansung and Vante were plating dinner in the kitchen.

“Hi,” You greeted them. Vante jumped two feet in the air as Hansung smirked at you.

You cocked your head. Moving your eyes from one brother to the next, you caved, “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean, (y/n)?” V moved closer to you, “Is this not going as you wrote it?”

You stopped breathing. No, there was no way… but, your laptop had seemed to be moved. You shot Hansung a look in askance.

He grinned sheepishly, and it told you everything you needed to know.

“Fuck,” You turned away from them, “I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I’ll leave.”

“Who’s One?” V’s question cut through your rambled apology.

“What?” You blinked, turning to look at him.

“Who is One, kitten? Is it me?” V moved right in front of you. You gulped. He smiled. “I thought so.”

“You see, (y/n)-kitten,” He continued, “You were right. My brothers and I? We’re a unit. We do everything together. We live together, we date together, we fuck together.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words.

“We just want one girl to keep us all together, kitten… to be ours.” V murmured, twisting a lock of your hair between his fingers, “That’s what we’ve been searching for for so long.”

You finally found words at last, “And you think that girl is me?”

“We know it’s you,” Vante said, shyly approaching you, “And we’re going to show you why.”

He kissed you. You almost laughed over how cute, shy Vante was the first brother to kiss you. His kiss was gentle, but insistent in its movements. It was like he was pleading you to let him in both your mouth and your heart.

You crumbled. Your hands fisted his shirt and tugged him closer. His kiss ignited something in you that made you want more.

Your tongue darted out to run along the seam of his lips. Vante gasped, and your tongue slid inside.

As you continue to kiss him, someone moved behind you, his lips ghosted over your neck.

“Mm, baby,” Taehyung whispered against the nape of your neck, “You’re so beautiful.”

Taehyung ran his hands over your hips and tugged your ass flush with his crotch. You moaned into Vante’s mouth. Vante took advantage of your dazed state to slide his tongue against yours in a way that was so deliciously dirty.

Suddenly, Vante backed up, and V took his place before you.

His hands slid up your body, grazing the sides of your breasts before settling back down at the top of your waist.

He kissed you deeply, differently than Vante. The slight roughness of his touch was new, and it seemed to declare ownership over you.

V’s tongue twined with yours, playing with you. From behind you, Taehyung continued to slowly grind into you.

Your body felt so overheated, so overwhelmed.

Pulling back from your mouth, V glanced over your shoulder, and Taehyung slipped away from you.

V focused back on you. “I don’t think you understand what you do to us. God, this dress. Did you wear it to tease us, kitten? We’ve been wanting to unwrap you, to strip you down, since you walked through our door.”

V fiddled with the bow keeping your dress fastened.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you said, “Well, do it then.”

His hand froze. His eyes flicked up to yours. “You’re sure, (y/n)? You know what you’re asking for? You know what we’ll give you?”

You glanced around. Vante looked at you with a hopeful expression. Hansung wore a smirk, already working on undoing the buttons of his shirt. Taehyung full-on grinned at you with dark eyes full of wicked intent and promise.

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your lips, the mood shifted. V nodded at Vante, who scurried out of the room. You opened your mouth to question his departure, but V cut you off.

“Now, kitten, I know you’ve imagined this - wrote this; but, you’re not the one in charge here. We are.”

He led you down the hall and into what must have been his own bedroom. The king size bed dominated the room. Paintings decorated the walls… Was that a real Degas?

Vante entered the room, holding what looked like long scraps of silk.

“Finally,” Hansung grumbled, and then turned to you, “Strip.”

Your hands shook as you reached down to the tie at your waist and pulled. Your dress, your armor, fell to the ground in a whoosh. You stood in just your underwear, having forgone a bra that evening.

“Goddamn,” V growled, “Such a good little slut coming to our place without a bra.”

His filthy words slid over your body like a caress and settled deep in your core. You pushed your thighs together. The movement was not lost on the brothers.

“Vante.”

At V’s call, Vante reached out and took your hand. Leading you over to the bed, he gestured for you to lay down. “We want to tie you up, kitten. Is that okay? If not, we can have fun in other ways.”

“T-that’s okay,” You swallowed hard, “I like bondage.”

“I knew it!” Hansung cheered from the left foot of the bed.

“Shut up, Han,” Vante shot over his shoulder as he focused on tying your wrists behind your head. Refocusing on you, he mumbled, “How does that feel, baby? Too tight? Too loose?”

“Just right,” You sighed, almost moaning at how hot you felt getting tied down by one man while three others watched.

Taehyung sat down at your side, his pointer finger began drawing light circles across your stomach. “Can Hansung take your panties off, kitten?”

Nodding, you looked down as Hansung leaned over you, hands briefly squeezing your hips before tugging your underwear down your thighs. Almost on reflex, you squeezed your legs together again, craving any sort of friction.

“Open your legs,” V ordered from his stance against the wall by the foot of the bed, “Show us how wet you are.”

You listened, hyper-aware of how your wetness was surely obvious. Taehyung’s fingers suddenly pinched your nipple, rolling the puckered bud between his fingers. A small moan escaped you.

“Fuck,” someone cursed. Hansung, you guessed. “She’s so pretty.”

“How wet is she?” Taehyung asked, the only brother not openly ogling your wet pussy.

“Dripping,” Vante murmurs, tongue wetting his lips.

Your eyes locked with V’s as he stared you down. “Now, kitten, do you want Vante to lick your pussy? Or Hansung?”

Both boys in question stared at you with wistful expressions. You knew your answer though. It was not an option he had given. And it was your lack of answer that tipped V off.

“Ah, I see,” V laughed. “Well, that’ll be a new one for us.”

Hansung shot V a confused look, “What?”

“She wants both of your mouths,” V smirked at your immediate blush, “What? Am I wrong, baby?”

“…No,” You pouted.

Vante’s eyebrows furrowed, “Both of us? Like at one time? Or one after the other?”

All eyes were on you once more as you squirmed under the weight of their attention and Taehyung’s continued worship of your nipples with his fingers.

“Either?” You were losing your train of thought under the building pleasure. Could you actually come from just nipple play?

“Mm,” V hummed, “Our little kitten is being indecisive. Vante?”

Again, Vante hastened to fulfill V’s unspoken command. You wondered how many times the brothers had done this together, because they were really fucking in sync.

“Are you good with being blindfolded, too, kitten?” Vante asked, kissing your cheek lightly. You nodded and lifted your head up slightly so he could tie the soft silk around your head.

Darkness consumed you. Your senses heightened. A breath coasted over your wetness and you shuddered.

A light kiss pressed over your folds followed by a tentative swipe of a tongue. “Damn, she tastes fucking amazing,” Hansung groaned, completely giving himself away.

“Shut up and make her come, Han. Or I’ll let Vante take your place.” V’s voice came from closer by you now. Was he right next to you? Was he at your feet?

His lips felt so soft as he dragged them over your pussy to finally suck your clit in between them. His tongue slid and flicked perfectly against your clit.

The small ministrations of his tongue against your clit set your arousal ablaze. You shifted your hips up in hopes he will lick harder, but a firm hand pushed you back down.

“No, no, kitten,” V’s voice sounded in your ear, “You’ll get what we give you.”

Hansung continued to stroke his tongue between your legs. Finally, by the grace of the gods, he pushed a finger inside you and hissed, “Fuck, she’s so tight.”

You clenched down around his finger at his words, and he moaned. “She was fucking made for us.”

As Han returned to worship your pussy, another tongue flicked at your nipple. Was that Vante? Taehyung?

Honestly, not knowing was high-key hot. You were hurtling towards your orgasm as one brother ate your pussy, another worshipped your breasts, and two more watched.

The feeling of having so much attention on you, on your pleasure, on your body, set you off. You came with an embarrassingly loud moan.

Lips brushed your ear as V murmured, “You’re so sexy when you come, kitten. I bet you’ll look even better when you come all over my cock.”

A whine escaped you as he teased you, licking your neck, teeth scraping over it. The afterglow of your orgasm quickly turned into the aching need for more.

And then your stomach let out an insanely loud growl.

The room quieted. A chuckle escaped someone. Then, laughs echoed around the bedroom.

“Well, someone needs to be fed,” V’s smile was apparent as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

The blindfold slipped from around your head and you blinked up at V as he untied your wrists. “Come on, baby, we can reheat dinner.”

“But–” You pouted as V placed a finger to your lips.

“We can get back to that after. We’re not even close to being done with you, kitten.”

“I don’t think we ever will,” Taehyung grinned at you as he tugged you up from the bed.

“Here you go, (y/n),” Vante handed you Han’s discarded button down.

“Thank you,” You blushed at his cuteness. Pausing, you scoured the ground for your panties.

Thwack.

Your ass stung as V’s hand massaged over the area he just smacked.

“They’re mine. Don’t bother,” His grin was feral as he squeezed your ass and then led you out of the room towards the kitchen.

As you both joined the others in the kitchen, you took the plate that Han offered you. Surveying the room, you took in your varying states of undress as you all stood around the kitchen island eating your reheated dinners.

Damn, you could get used to this… Taehyung caught your eye and shot you a wink.

Yeah, you were so fucked… but, so were they.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[gureishi]

Saeyoung + 13? Or Saeyoung + 11?

[417]

Of COURSE, my friend~

Oh boy, this one was fun to do. I really hope you enjoy it ♡

thirteen: left your mark on me

Saeyoung X Reader, T, words: 2643

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

It’s the first time Saeran has ever texted you.

Technically, you think—heart pounding—that’s not true. Him texting you was, you suppose, the catalyst for everything that’s happened to you over the last few months. But the Saeran you know now—the quiet, tired boy who’s just recently started saying hello to you when you show up at his home—never. Certainly not.

Your hands tremble as you swipe to open his message. Something’s wrong, you think, because why else would he reach out to you? You feel your heartbeat in the roof of your mouth and say a prayer in your head. Be okay be okay be okay be okay…

“Come over,” says the text.

What?

“Is everything okay?” you text back with one hand, already tripping across your room, grabbing a jacket. Be okay be okay be okay be okay…

He answers immediately. He types fast, like his brother.

“Yeah,” he says. You let out the breath you’ve been holding. “Come talk to him. I don’t want to.”

You pause, one arm in your jacket. Come talk to him? That ambiguous phrase could mean so many things, and god, you want to know more, but you can’t want to press him—that he reached out at all is a huge step, one you wouldn’t dare jeopardize.

“Be right there,” you text back, stuffing your other arm into your jacket, slipping into shoes. You keep your phone in your hand as you throw the door open, taking the steps two at a time, but he doesn’t text you again. Of course he doesn’t—he’s said what he needed to say.

You put on loud music in the car, feeling the need to drown out the sound of your heartbeat. You roll down the window even though the wind blows your hair into your eyes, making it hard to see. You go over the messages again and again in your head: talk to him, he said. Talk to him about what?

Your music pounds over the speakers, rocking the car a little, and you grip the steering wheel slightly too hard. You’ve just missed rush hour and the traffic is dying down, so you make good time, driving just the tiniest bit over the speed limit. He’d scold you for it, you think—he’s always admonishing you for driving too fast, even though he pushes his fancy little cars to their limits on the empty dirt roads around the bunker. Hypocrite.

You take the exit, follow the street as it loops round and round, make the turn-off onto the unmarked road that leads to his home. The stars are starting to come out now.

You slow down as you see the bunker looming in the distance; from the outside, it’s ominous, and yet it fills you with an inexplicable warmth, flips your stomach around.

You shout the password at the garage without stopping, grinning as the first door opens for you. You half-expect to find him here, body mostly hidden under one of his cars, mysterious tools littering the ground around him. He’s often here when he’s sulking—today, though, the garage is empty, dark and dank. You pull into the one parking spot he’s left open for you—as far as possible from his cars, dressed for nighttime in their little protective hoods. I can park, you think grumpily. He doesn’t trust me.

But you know this isn’t true, and it’s confirmed again as you slip out of your car, keys in hand, and step cautiously toward his main door.

“Welcome,” it says to you in it’s robo-voice.

This is new.

“Šukran,” you say.

And without any further prompting—without questions, or quizzes, or nearly impossible translations, it opens. Almost as if it recognizes the sound of your voice.

Huh.

You kick off your shoes, tossing them into the jumble by the door. Saeyoung’s are heaped in a pile, some upside down and sideways; Saeran’s are lined up nearly beside his, in a perfect line as if to say “look, this is how it’s done.” This makes you smile.

Neither twin is in the living room. There’s a light under Saeran’s door, but you leave him be.

Anxiety building in the pit of your stomach, you pad down the hall in your socked feet. Saeyoung’s office is dark, but there’s light on in his bedroom. This, by itself, is unusual—without you here, it’s rare that he goes into that room at all.

You knock softly on the door, and when he doesn’t answer you push it open.

“It’s me,” you call softly, squinting as your eyes adjust. The room is as bright as the rest of the bunker is dark; all the fluorescent lights on are, starkly illuminating the black and yellow decorations. There’s barely any empty space on the walls, and it reminds you of his mind—so crammed with thoughts that there’s no place to rest.

In spite of his near-inhuman senses, he doesn’t see you at first.

He’s sitting on the floor, back propped against the side of the bed, headphones over his ears. His eyes are closed, knees tucked up to his chest. He looks small, like this—like you could scoop him up in your arms and carry him away.

“Hi,” you say, a little louder.

He jumps, eyes flying open, headphones slipping off one ear. He makes a spluttering noise that could be “huh?” or “hi” or just “haaaaah!”

You smile.

“Saeran didn’t tell you I was coming, then?”

“N-no, I…Saeran?” He blinks up at you as though he doesn’t quite believe you’re there. It’s then that you notice the sunken-in look about him: his eyes are clouded and sleepy, a little red-rimmed. His cheeks are pale.

You sink onto the floor beside him; you copy his posture, tucking your knees to your chest.

“Saeran told me to come talk to you,” you admit, looking down. You’re not sure why, but now that you’re here, you feel a little embarrassed. “So I did.”

“He…he…” Saeyoung looks lost for words. A part of you—a little bitter, self-conscious part—wonders if he wishes you hadn’t come. As if he senses what you’re thinking, he spins abruptly to face you, sitting cross-legged. He moves fast: in an instant, you’re almost nose-to-nose. “Sorry,” he says quietly, and you feel his breath on your face; your cheeks burn. “I’m soooo happy to see you, kitten. I was just…ah, surprised.”

It’s hard to breathe with him close like this. You bite your lip.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” you tell him.

And you are. His hair’s a little messed up, like he’s been running his hands through it, and there’s a sparkle in his eyes now—though he’s still got that harrowed, tired look about him.

“I, uh…” He looks down, his face reddening a little. “I was actually wishing you were here, earlier. I should’ve just called you myself.”

He pushes up his glasses and rubs his eyes with one shaky hand.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you ask.

He sighs, and you feel like maybe he’s been half-holding his breath all day.

“Not really,” he says.

“Saeyoung.”

He peers at you through his fingers; you feel you must look foolish with the stern expression you’re making, but he smiles.

“Oh, I just adore you,” he groans, now dropping his face into both hands. “I can’t resist you, you know.”

“I know.” Gently, you place a hand on his knee; he twitches in response.

“It’s something silly,” he warns, voice muffled by his hands. Suddenly, he tips forward; you realize what he’s doing just in time and shift your weight so his head lands on your shoulder. His breath is on your collarbone now, and a shiver runs through your body.

“I’m sure it’s not,” you say.

He exhales again, and fleetingly, you wonder if he’s doing this on purpose—breathing on the exposed skin of your shoulder just to tease you. Even gloomy like this, he can’t resist the urge to try and rile you up.

“I guess I sort of…realized something,” he mutters, voice low. You have to tilt your head down to hear him. 

“Yes?”

“Having Saeran here is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmurs. He’s almost whispering, as if he’s afraid to be heard. “One of the greatest,” he adds, grazing your wrist with his thumb, calloused and rough and wonderful. 

You hum your affirmation, not wanting to interrupt now that he’s talking.

“But…” He trails off as if he’s not quite sure how to explain it. His head is still on your shoulder and you can’t see his face; with your free hand, you gently brush his hair off his forehead. “My whole life,” he continues, a little more confidently, “I’ve just had one thing I’m trying to do. Everything I’ve done has been about making sure he’s safe. Now that I’ve got him, I…”

“Don’t know what to do next?”

He twists his head sideways—like a cat, you think, seeking out attention. You tangle your hand in his hair, pulling it a little, and you swear he purrs.

“Yeah,” he admits, voice breathy. “I’m not sure what I’m…here for, now.”

“Saeyoung.” You say his name firmly—something has dawned on you. You straighten abruptly and he pulls back if as startled. He’s still got that weary look, like he’s spent the day like this, buried under a pile of his own thoughts. “Saeyoung, has anyone ever asked you what you want before?”

“What do you mean?” He sits up straight too: faces you, fingers still gently gripping your wrist.

“Listen,” you say. “I know you want to live together with Saeran, and now you do. And you want him to be safe and happy. But aside from those things, what do you want?”

You can tell he’s puzzled; he cocks his head thoughtfully.

“I don’t, um…”

“Try to think.”

“I mean, I…”

He’s got this sort of helpless look about him, and you can’t take it anymore. You take his face in both your hands, gently holding his cheeks—which are flushed, almost feverish. Touching his face makes your body tingle.

“Let’s start small,” you tell him. His eyes are so big and bright behind his glasses and you feel a strange impulse to kiss his eyelashes. “Tell me one thing you want right now.”

His eyes lock with yours and then you see his face flush—if possible—even darker. His gaze trails down your face, lingering on your lips.

“Well…” he lilts, tilting his head to the side. “There is one thing I wanna do, but—I mean, ahh, I would say that I’m thinking about…”

“I’m gonna help you,” you whisper, hands still on his cheeks. “Tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

His face is red—oh, so red.

“Well, the thing is, I…I really want you to kiss me,” he murmurs. Finally. The buzzy air between you was becoming almost unbearable.

You lean forward and he waits, patient, still, longing. He’s already so close; you ghost your lips over his and he melts into you instantly. You swipe your tongue over his bottom lip.

When you pull away he’s panting, eyes cloudy.

“Good,” you tell him. “What else do you want?” 

“I…ah…” His voice sounds almost slurred: he’s overwhelmed, you think, by the way you’ve taken control. There’s a sort of dazed smile dancing over his lips.

“Tell me,” you urge. “Think of this as practice. I’m gonna teach you how to ask for what you want if it kills me, Choi Saeyoung.”

Oh, the look on his face is wonderful: delighted and spellbound.

“I want, ah…um, th-this,” he says—which isn’t really a request, but it’s a start. He takes your hand in his and guides it upwards, pushes your fingers into his hair.

“You want me to pet you?”

“Yeah, like…like how you did before.”

You comb your fingers through his messy curls, separating the strands with your fingertips. And you face is still so close to his, and he looks so hopelessly adoring, so you lean forward and kiss him again: once, quick and soft.

“Can you, uh…can you do what you did before? With my hair?” he asks weakly. What you did before…? 

Oh.

You tangle your fingers in his hair a little more roughly, pulling it, and he squeaks and kisses you again, this time with unbound enthusiasm. You feel like you’ve unlocked a secret weapon.

Hand buried in his hair, you kiss just his lower lip, then the tip of his nose, his cheek, his jaw. You trail kisses down the side of his neck and he inhales sharply.

“Will you do that again?” he asks.

“This?” You kiss his neck again, gently, just under the curve of his jaw.

“Y-yes, but um…harder.”

Interesting. “Do you want me to?” you ask him—because this is practice, after all; you’re helping him—not just satisfying your own curiosity about how much he’d squirm if you just…nibbled him a little.

He giggles, high-pitched and awkward. “Mmmm…yes, I want you to,” he mutters, and that’s enough for you.

You take the smooth skin between your teeth, biting down, and he yelps. You were right—he does squirm, wiggling around like a fish. You suck the skin into your mouth, biting a little harder.

And by the time you pull away he looks dizzy; there’s a beautiful, silly grin on his face.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” you say softly, touching the already-reddening skin with your fingertip. 

“I…think I like that,” he says, with some surprise.

“Good job,” you tell him, opening your arms—he eagerly leans into you, rests his head on your chest. “That was, uh…good practice.”

He laughs, warm and open and sleepy, and you wrap your arms around him.

“Excellent practice,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna need a lot more practice, though, so…”

“I’ve got you,” you tell him. You plant a kiss on the very top of his head and he hums. “I want you to start thinking about other stuff you want too, though. Okay? Life stuff.”

He gets comfortable, snuggling sleepily into you. He’s exhausted himself worrying, you think; he needs to power down that gigantic brain.

“Aaaaanything?” he sings, his tone lighter now, more relaxed.

“I mean…” Oh no.

“I want a hundred cats!”

“Saeyoung.”

“I can get them and squish them all and have them all sleep in my bed with me?!”

“Saeyoung…”

“And make a cat army and ride into battle on the back of a giant cat?”

“No.”

“Heeeeey,” he whines, and you squeeze him tighter, stroking his beautiful, messy, overwrought head. “You said anything.”

“Within reason, honey.”

He murmurs something only half-coherent about horse-sized cats and nuzzles into your chest. You wonder how much he’s slept in the past few days, stewing over his future. It’s normal to worry about these things, you think—but for Saeyoung, who’s never once thought about his future, it’s nearly impossible.

But this is what you want for him. You want to see him make choices for himself—to learn how to put his happiness first.

“One cat,” you murmur into his hair. “Let’s start with one cat.”

He hums, head heavy.

“Three,” he mumbles. “One for each of us.”

“Sure, baby,” you tell him, curling a lock of his thick red hair around your fingertip. He’s so soft and helpless like this—dozing off curled up in your arms, humming softly as you pet his head. “If that’s what you want,” you say, “I’ll make sure it happens.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!yeosang (part 1)

word count: 5k

fluff, smut

(miniseries masterlist)

“if you don’t know the cranial nerves by now pretty boy, you might as well drop out.”

“fuck you! maybe my tutor just sucks and is the world’s biggest asshole!”

“maybe you’re the world’s biggest idiot and just wasting his time.”

“maybe he’s not teaching me properly because he’s an arrogant son of a bitch.”

“maybe you’re too distracted by your fiancé that you can’t even-”

a tray being slammed down on the table halts the boy’s incessant bickering, your harsh look staring between their two bodies making them point at each other immediately. 

“don’t look at me like that, y/n. he started it this time! dickhead told me i should just drop out!” 

“pretty boy said i’m the biggest asshole ever, baby. i think i should be the one who’s more-”

“just shut up! both of you!” you beg, plopping down in your seat next to your boyfriend and rubbing at your temples. “we’ve only been back for three weeks and you two are already like this. how could you possibly be this stressed and annoyed at each other already?”

yeosang looks at you with a smirk on his face but softness in his eyes, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you close to him. 

his lips brush against your skin as they leave a chaste kiss on your temple; he’s seen you rub at your head like this far too many times during him and mingi’s tutoring sessions throughout the years.

“sorry, but i’m just trying to help him, love,” yeosang mumbles in your ear, suppressing a sigh when you feel his signature smirk against your skin. “poor guy’s in his third year of college and doesn’t know the cranial nerves.”

“i don’t know the cranial nerves. should i drop out too?” you quip, ripping yourself away from him and raising an eyebrow. 

but the boy doesn’t miss a beat, sending you a smile that still sends your stomach fluttering despite his unpleasant behavior.

“please. i’ve wanted nothing more than to support you this whole time.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth at the disgusted sneer that crosses your face, the familiar dinging of the coffee shop door welcoming none other than yunho as his eyes roam the store.

mingi’s eyes light up immediately upon seeing the boy, a bright smile on his face that makes you bite back one of your own. yunho finally spots you three and looks at mingi with the same amount of happiness in his eyes, ruffling his now black hair and placing a peck on his cheek when he arrives at the table. 

there’d been a lot of changes within the past three years, all of you moving to a different city and getting used to the changed pace of life. it was more chaotic and busy, for sure, with a lot more responsibilities than your teenage selves had had. 

but almost every moment of it has been fun. 

even through the cram sessions and disastrous drunken nights and fighting between mingi and yeosang, it’s been fun. exploring the city and meeting new people and doing everything you’re supposed to do when you’re young and carefree and finding yourself. 

you remember college had seemed terrifying for all of you back on the beach during senior year, when you hadn’t even told your parents about yeosang or going away to school and things were still up in there for mingi and yunho.

but it ended up being the best decision of your life. living and going to school with yeosang who, at one point, you convinced yourself you hated more than anyone on this earth. 

you were surprised, really, by how stable your relationship was despite the obvious rocky start. your mean, high school bully turned college boyfriend who you had a seemingly perfect relationship with. 

and freshmen year had been hard, you admit. getting used to sharing a space and living together and putting up with each other’s annoying habits. but really, after those first few weeks, the years following had been nothing but bliss. 

days full of studying and tests and internships that left you both beyond exhausted and ready to go home. 

it was the best feeling in the world to be able to go home to someone you loved and wanted to see, yeosang more often than not surprising you with dinner set on the coffee table and a movie paused on the tv. 

he had somewhat tricked you into getting your current apartment, a view far too nice and rooms far too big for just the two of you - but you couldn’t even pretend to be mad on nights when you’d lean on his shoulder and just look out the window at the city lights.

you were both now in your third year of college, only a few weeks into the first semester, which is what’s really making mingi and yeosang’s bickering already that much more concerning. 

usually it’d take until studying for midterms or finals for the boys to get like this. 

“what happened?” yunho’s sweet, calming voice asks, his eyes shifting from mingi to you with an obvious sense of compassion. you can only stare at the boy with a pained expression, mingi and yeosang talking and cursing over each other in the (luckily) empty coffee shop. 

you have to bite back a smile at the obvious change in mingi’s demeanor now, his eyes wide and deep voice softening that makes yeosang scoff in disgust. 

“oh get the fuck out of here. what happened to the mingi in high school who tried to crack my head open?” yeosang asks, taking his coffee off the tray and bringing it closer to himself. “now you’ve turned into a domesticated little bitch.”

“that’s what happens when you ask someone to marry them,” mingi bites back, yunho’s arm tightening on his shoulder so he doesn’t jump over the table. “but you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you pussy boy? y/n’s gonna have to wait till she’s 50 and you finally grow a pair.”

“that’s funny, since you only asked yunho because you were shitfaced and he’s too damn nice to-”

“shut up!” 

your squeal cuts your boyfriend off immediately, a smirk on the other boy’s faces as they watch him get reprimanded. holding back their laughter and giggles as you threaten to never ever attend another study session with both of them again.

even though what yeosang was saying did hold some truth to it. 

mingi and yunho knew pretty much from the moment they met that they were gonna be together forever, something innate and deep within their souls just connected and meant to be. 

but it was after one too many shots for a lightweight mingi that he popped the question to the boy, all of you out one night and thinking it was just mingi being mingi who always went on about his feelings for yunho.

but you and yeosang nearly fell on your asses when you saw him reaching in his pocket for the ring, the boy saying that he saw it a few weeks ago and just felt the overwhelmingly need to buy it. 

it was cute and spontaneous and authentic in the sense that, even after all the alcohol mingi had ingested that night, it’s like yunho saying yes completely sobered him. 

though you all joke today that the now dark-haired boy only said yes because he felt bad for his drunken boyfriend’s proposal. 

“you know he felt bad for him,” yeosang says, his hand in yours as you guys walk back to your apartment. 

it’s only a four block walk, and a much needed one, after you and yunho couldn’t take the bickering any longer. 

you simply grabbed yeosang by the hand after they started up again ten minutes later and led him out of the coffee shop, your neck snapping back at mingi with squinted eyes when you heard him try to egg the boy on one last time. 

“i also know that they were gonna get married anyway,” you say, craning your neck to look over at your boyfriend challengingly. “so what does it really matter?”

he stops in the middle of the sidewalk to smile down at you, his hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. there’s mirth in his eyes at your prickliness, biting down on his lip so he doesn’t ask if you need to be relieved some way in public. 

“what about us?” he mumbles, snaking his hands down your body to grasp your hand. “we’re gonna get married too, right?” 

you narrow your eyes at his teasing, tightening your hold on his hand just a little too tightly in a way that makes him wince. 

“baby, why are you so mad today?” yeosang whines as you walk into the building, greeting the doorman with a smile as you charge toward the elevator. 

the apartment building is just as ritzy as your home, tall glass windows and marble floors and the magnificent chandeliers you’ve come to learn are something the rich just love; you knew the moment you saw three hanging above the front desk that this was way out of your price range. 

but you’d grown used to the lifestyle and you’ve grown close with the doorman, a sweet older gentlemen who worked there since the early 90s. he’s kept an eye on you and yeosang throughout the years and can tell, right about now, you’ve had enough of him. 

he sends a smirk your way and you give him a knowing look, hearing his chuckle ring throughout the lobby.

“why am i mad? why am i mad?” you repeat, the splitting headache and irritation radiating off of you from hours of grown men bickering back and forth. you click on the elevator button repeatedly, yeosang holding back a smirk at your aggressiveness. 

“maybe i’m mad because, gee, i don’t know, you and mingi are like children and never stop fighting. or maybe because even though i’m supposed to finish work for my class tomorrow, i have a splitting headache and wasn’t able to get anything done.”

the elevator doors open and you step in as the words keep pouring from you, yeosang just watching as your mouth continues to move. he’s grateful you two are the only ones in here right now, solely for the purpose of saving other people from hearing this rant.

not because right now would be the perfect moment to relax you. catch up on old times and and techniques to shut you up the way he did the last time you two were fighting in an elevator. 

“and now you’re not even listening to me! i just don’t know why you have to constantly fight with him. it’s only the third week back, yeosang, and you’re already-”

your back hits the wall before you can even get the next words out, eyes flaring as you watch yeosang’s hand grip your chin. his hold is firm but gentle, the teasing that was once behind his eyes slowly transforming to something darker. 

more lustful and dominating and intense. 

“can you just shut up already,” he mumbles lowly, connecting your lips before you can even get a response out.

and similar to all the times you kiss, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away or not kiss back. instead, you find that the kiss ignites something in you, a passion and intensity as your hands move to curl through his hair. 

he grunts against your mouth when you pull at the strands of dark hair just a little too roughly, not being able to help the smirk on your face. he grips your hips harshly in return, pushing you back harder into the wall before he pulls back and stares down at you. 

his gaze is unwavering and harsh and you’re feeling something twinge in your lower stomach. 

“is this what all your frustrations have been about today?” he mumbles in your ear, his hand ghosting the top of your jeans but refusing to dip in the waistband. “is it because i left you hanging this morning?” 

the smirk against your skin makes you wanna scream almost more than he did this morning, edging you nonstop with his tongue and fingers for the sole purpose that he just wanted to keep you in bed all day and hear your moans of his name.

but then mingi’s fist pounding on the door 15 minutes early broke you two apart, his mouth wet and eyes hazy as he told you you guys would have to finish later. 

“need i remind you those sessions were your idea,” he says, his hand ghosting between your legs and over your jeans. he smirks again when he feels heat radiating from you, chuckling in a way that makes you bite back a growled comment of your own. 

“i was more than happy to eat your pussy all morning before fucking you like a good girl,” he says lowly in your ear, leaning his body into yours. 

you whimper when you feel his hard cock press against you, his words and his voice and everything about him right now quickly making your mind cloud with lust. 

“but you insisted i help him because he’s your best friend and i’ve helped him before. but now you’re the one mad at me?” he hums, a harsh sting on your scalp as he suddenly grips your hair and pulls your head back. “how’s that fair, baby?”

your chest is heaving and breaths are shaky, resisting the urge so badly to either curse him out or fall to your knees; luckily, you compose yourself and don’t do either. 

“it’s not,” you whine, the submissive part he always brings out in you breaking through. 

“i know it’s not,” he says, his eyes moving to the wall to see you’re only a few stops away from your floor. “that’s why when we get home, i’m gonna fuck your pretty mouth. do you understand me?” 

you only stare at him with wide, glossy eyes before you see his jaw tick. his fingers suddenly push into your mouth, the warm wetness making his cock twitch in his pants as you have to suppress your own moan.

“i said do you understand me?” 

“y-yes,” you mutter around his fingers, faintly hearing the ding of the elevator before he’s off your body and walking through the doors. 

the second you’re both inside the apartment, he’s against the door and your on your knees shoving down his pants and taking him in your mouth. you look up at him as you swirl your tongue around the tip playfully, slapping his cock against your mouth before he growls at you to stop playing. 

and when you don’t, just give gentle little sucks that you know are gonna bring him over the edge, he slams into your mouth causing you to gag around him. 

“i told you to stop fucking playing.” 

you wanna smirk at the deep growl in his voice but you can’t as his hips pick up speed and he starts fucking your mouth. 

he’s always the one that seems more composed, a wise ass, teasing boyfriend in public who just lives to get under his girlfriend’s skin - but the second you’re alone, that composure is gone. within a split second, his eyes change and you’re more often than not at his mercy all night. 

he’s so lost in the way your mouth feels around him, warm and wet and your tiny moans vibrating against him, that he doesn’t realize you’re mumbling words until you squeeze his thigh.

his eyes immediately flash with concern, pulling himself from your mouth when he spots your glassy ones. he bends down to meet your gaze, framing your face in his hands as he wipes at your wet, spit-covered mouth.

“you good?” 

your heart softens at how fast he’s able to come out of it, switch from hard to gentle in a matter of seconds when he thinks you’re in pain or not enjoying it. but you’re enjoying it a lot, if the growing ache between your legs isn’t evident of that. 

“yes,” you whine, pulling him up before you lead him over to the couch and push him down. his shirt’s the only thing on as he leans back against the couch, his eyes hazy and lustful as they wrack over your body. 

“i...wanted to ride you,” you tell him quietly, stripping off your pants and soaked thong as he watches you carefully. “didn’t want you to come in my mouth.”

your stomach flutters at the smirk that crosses his mouth, his cock hard and waiting to be relieved as he leans back and you stand before him. his tongue daps at his mouth as you stand there on shaky legs, his hand reaching out to pull you into him. 

you fall on his lap with a squeal before he cups your face, squeezing your cheeks together so your lips jut out. 

“well are you just gonna stand there like an idiot?” he mumbles lowly in your ear, his finger sliding in you. he wants to groan at how wet and ready you are, sticking another one as he teasingly moves his fingers inside of you. 

“or am i’m gonna get to fill this pretty pussy?” 

he feels you clench around his fingers and it’s all he needs to remove them, throwing his head back to rest on the couch when you finally sink down on him. you immediately moan at the feeling of him in you, moving your hips against him desperately. 

you think of how bothered he left you this morning, ripping orgasm after orgasm away from you for the sole purpose of him loving how pathetic you sounded. how teasing he was all the day, aggravating the shit out of you with his arguing and lingering hands. 

how he’d put his hand on your thigh or knee with little regard for how frustrated you were growing throughout the day.

“should’ve known this is what you wanted,” yeosang growls lowly, his hands on your hips as a way to guide your bouncing. “you finally feel good now baby? getting off on my cock?” 

words can’t even leave your mouth because of how overwhelmed you are, face falling in the crook of his neck as you whine into his skin. he feels himself close to coming so he snakes his hand between your bodies, circling your clit a few times before a loud moan leaves your mouth. 

he comes just a few seconds after you, his hot release shooting inside of you and making you whine a little bit more. you can feel his cock pulsing around you as you both try to catch your breath, pulling yourself off of him before collapsing onto the couch. 

you hear his soft chuckle as he takes off his shirt, wiping between your legs gently before gripping your hips. you groan tiredly as he lays back and brings you with him, your body moving against his until you’re comfortably sprawled out on top of him.

he closes his eyes as he feels your faint breathing against him, his hands gently working their way into your sweaty hair. there’s a comfortable silence in the room, the faint smell a pumpkin candle and sex in the air as you bury yourself further into him. 

“how do you feel now?” he mumbles knowingly in your ear, a smirk on his lips as you pinch him in the arm. 

“shut up,” you mumble into his neck, pulling back to look at him. his cheeks are flushed and eyes are soft as they look down at you, pulling at something in your chest that makes you pinch him again.

“why are you pinching me?” he chuckles, tightening his hold on you. 

“because you’re mean,” you whine to him, sitting up to straddle his naked waist. “you had me frustrated all morning and just made it worse throughout the day with your shit.”

“i’m sorry, baby, i really am,” he says, though there’s nothing apologetic about his tone or face. you narrow your eyes at him before slapping his chest lightly, about to get up before he grabs you around the waist.

“wait, wait, where are you going?” 

“i told you i had work to do,” you tell him, knowing your resolve to ditch the work and spend the rest of the night on the couch with him is already creeping up. 

“do it later,” he asks softly, spinning you around and pulling you into him again. “i wanna lay with you and watch tv.” 

you let out a huff as you look down at him, the uncharacteristic softness you were once shocked by something you always see now. 

you could feel insecure or unsure about everything else in the world, your own looks or your abilities at school or if you did the right thing at work, but you’re never not confident about yeosang’s love for you.

it’s obvious in his eyes and the way he touches you, soft and sweet and full of care even though in your steamier moments, he’s rough and very reminiscent of his old, harsher self. 

it’s what makes the aftercare that much more sweet, knowing this is how he is and that your wellbeing is always number one. it takes all of two-seconds for you to cave, cuddling against him as you ask what you guys are gonna eat for dinner. 

it’s over a buffet of chinese food later that night, you in yeosang’s lap and him pecking your neck playfully, that you hear him mumble words into your skin.

“i wanna ask you something, baby.”

he says the words so sweetly and innocently that you can’t help but smile, scooting yourself off his lap so you can sit criss-crossed in front of him. 

“what?” you chirp, white rice in hand as you shovel pieces in your mouth.

he smiles at the way you so messily eat, wiping at the corner of your mouth affectionately. 

“when we were talking about mingi proposing to yunho before,” he begins, his voice uncharacteristically shy and almost hesitant. “and what mingi said about you needing to wait till you’re 50 for me to propose. is that...something you guys talked about?” 

you purse your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing at his cute blabbering, cocking your head to the side as you look at him. 

“are you asking if i wanna get married?” 

“i’m saying we can get married right now, if you want.”

you’d laugh if his face wasn’t so deadly serious, looking at you with soft awaiting eyes like he’s waiting for to say yes so he can run out and buy a ring. 

“yeosang...”

“i’m just saying, baby,” he says, cheeks the slightest pink that makes your heart soar in your chest. “i obviously wanna marry you but i was gonna wait till after we graduated. but if you wanna get the ball rolling, we can totally-”

the giggle you’ve been holding back finally bubbles out of your chest, your head thrown back and hands reaching down to hold his tightly. 

“stop laughing! what the fuck!” yeosang’s deep voice whines, the giggles leaving your mouth only becoming more prominent. 

“i’m sorry, you’re just so cute,” you tell him with a smile, your hand reaching out to smooth through his hair. 

your squealing and your touch only makes his cheeks turn pinker, a groan leaving his mouth as he pushes you to the side playfully. you crawl back to him undeterred before placing yourself in his lap, his face covered with mock annoyance as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

“you’re a little shit,” he mumbles shyly, another giggle leaving your mouth before you peck a kiss on his lips. 

“i have talked to mingi about that before,” you tell him honestly, not wanting him to think you were saying anything bad or hurtful. “just how...if we were to get married, i think it’d be nice. because sometimes i feel like we already are since we like... live together and stuff.”

“and stuff?” he smirks, his heart secretly fluttering at the cute way you stutter. 

he feels the same way too. coming home to you and being with you every night makes everything feel very real and serious. long gone was the couple that would fight and bicker in his pool house over issues that simple communication could’ve fix. 

now you were a couple who talked things out and made sure the other always knew what they were thinking or feeling. 

“yeah and stuff,” you say, poking him in the chest lightly. his deep chuckle sends butterflies through your stomach as you cuddle yourself further into him, resting your head on his shoulder. 

you sigh contently when he starts tracing shapes on your back, his warmth and the gentle lull of his fingers making your eyes close. he hums against your head when he feels you relax in his hold, his lips brushing against your hair in a way that makes you smile against him. 

“do you want kids?” he suddenly asks, lost in the contentment and warmth of the moment. 

it’s not something you’ve ever discussed with one another simply because the topic never came up. but he remembers the day of your first kiss, before the turmoil and the fighting and the kiss itself, the way he watched you with the little girl and felt his cold heart tug in his chest.

the way you bent down to her height and smiled softly at her, picked little rocks and twigs to make the snow girl’s face that he eventually deemed ugly even though you’d given her a talk about ‘beauty being in the eye of the beholder.’

he remembers laughing and smiling and feeling warm at the interaction, even though then he claimed to not like you; he knows now the same way he knew then that that was never the case, especially not when he was watching you with that child. 

“after we get married obviously,” he adds. not even needing to see him to know   there’s still a pink flush on his cheeks. 

“i do,” you mumble against him, your eyes closed with a smile still on your face. the question makes you happy, talk of a life with him always makes you happy. “i think you’d be a good dad. probably the mean parent but that’s okay.”

he pulls you out of his chest with a scoff, looking over your face with such a baffled expression, you can’t help but giggle.

“i’m kidding,” you tease, poking at his cheek lightly. “you’ll be like mingi by then, domesticated and sweet.”

your squeal fills the apartment when he gathers you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he picks you up like it’s nothing and throws you back on the couch. 

“am i not already domesticated?” he asks, his hands next to your head as he leans over you. you smile up at him and shrug your shoulders, his eyebrows raising playfully. 

“maybe a little bit,” you giggle, watching his eyes roll that only makes you smile more. you bring your hands up to brush through his hair gently, watching his eyes close as your nails scrape his scalp. “do you want a boy or a girl?”

his eyes open upon hearing your question, roaming over your face in a way that makes your stomach flutter; you’ll never get used to the way he looks at you or the way your body responds to him.

“hmm, a girl,” he confesses lowly, a smile on his face as he thinks of you with your small child. her hair in a clip and rosy cheeks, your hair color but his eye color with a perfect mix of both your facial features. 

“how many?” 

he smiles as you guys start to picture your imaginary little family, picking out fake names and personalities as well as what they would be like in school. if they’re gonna be well-behaved and smart like you or a conniving, trouble-maker like him. 

“all i know is mingi and yunho are probably gonna beat us, somehow,” yeosang growls lowly, his (mock) disdain for the taller pretty boy something that’s never worn out over the years. 

“that’ll be good then,” you giggle, taking his hand when he stands up and extends his own. “we’ll need all the practice we can get.”

“absolutely. we’ll probably need to wait even a few years after we got married.”

because, for right now, you guys have school to focus on. 

classes and internships and future careers that are waiting for both of you eagerly. 

this dream is something you definitely want but, perhaps, not yet. you guys have all the time in the world, enjoying the freedom and space that comes with just living together and getting through college and the early adulthood years. 

“probably,” you nod, stretching your arms above your head and squealing his name when he tickles your sides.

classes start to pick up over the next month, the weather turning colder, work becoming harder and the amount of sleep you were getting shorter. you’d only gotten a few hours each night this week, working late and hard on a group project for, both, school and work.

so you’re not surprised in the slightest when you wake up one morning feeling like death, nauseous and sweaty before your groan wakes up yeosang. the queasy feeling that rushed up your throat moments later is one you haven’t felt in a long time, not even remembering the last time you had a gross stomach virus. 

yeosang held your hair back as you threw up, rubbing your back gently as you gripped the toilet seat.

“this is reminding me of when you threw up on the ski trip,” he says quietly, humor laced in his tone. 

you can only find it in yourself to throw up your middle finger, collapsing against his chest and whining that you don’t feel good. 

“i know, baby, i’m sorry,” he says, brushing your knotty, sleep-crazed hair back down. “you want me to stay home today?” 

and that’s how you both spend the whole day in bed, you alternating between sleeping on his chest, waking up to puke and then attempting to get down water and soup with crackers.

the nausea goes away when you wake up from your third nap, still feeling tired and achey but nowhere near as bad as when you woke up.

but you’re both still grateful for the day off with one another, cuddled up under the couch with a blanket and his arms wound tightly around you. your eyes start closing again when he starts rubbing your back absentmindedly, eventually falling asleep to the sound of his soft, even breathing. 

he looks down when you don’t respond to his question about the movie, smiling softly at your sleeping face before he moves back a few strands of sweaty hair. 

and it’s at the moment he knows he has to be in love with you, so content and happy with the time he spent with you today, that he’s not even concerned in the slightest about getting your stomach virus. 

part 2

tag list: @mirror-juliet​ 

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts: Max Phillips

Hello!  This is sort of a sequel to the Pero story, in that we saw Max and now we know what he was doing there and what choice he needed to make.

Warnings:  Cursing. Angst. I had the trick of having to put both blank canvas characters into one story, lol.  But I think I finessed it.  The “you” character is a blank slate, mostly gender neutral (mentions of wanting to have children could sway your perception one way or the other.). Not betad.  

This is my late #writerwednesday entry, thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​

Prologue:

Max Phillips slammed the hospital doors open, eager to get outside.  The sound beeping machines seemed to echo in his ears, making them hurt.  The smell of the place stuck to the back of his throat.

He tilted his head back in the afternoon sun, and breathed in, breathed out.  Tried to make himself calm down.  The Autumn are cleared his head as he jogged across the road.  

“Bad day?”  A voice asked.

Between two benches, almost hidden in the orange leaves, was a woman, instead of the ‘Nam veteran he usually passed a few moments talking to.  Her wiry steel colored hair was in a messy bun, covered by a turban.  She wore layers and layers even though it was a warm fall day.  “Where’s Raffi?”  Max asked.

“His daughter found him.  He decided to try living with her again.”

Max nodded.  “I hope it works out.  She wasn’t…apparently he isn’t easy to live with.  Bad dreams.”

“It’ll be better now.”  She said with such serene certainty that Max believed her.  He gave a little wave and walked away.  

He was back, twenty minutes later.  He put a chocolate shake in front of her, and a boxed fried chicken meal.  If he had known his folklore…which, sadly, he would become intimately familiar with, he would have understood her amusement.  Milk, bread…these were the Old offerings.  

Instead he shrugged, uncomfortable.  “What?  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  And I needed to eat, too.”  He sat next to her.

“How old are you?” She asked, though she knew.

He shrugged.  “Seventeen.”  He buttered a biscuit and took a huge bite.  He ate like he was starving.  “Why?”

“You seem to be awfully young to be hanging out with homeless people.  Where are your parents?”  

He shrugged again.  “My mom’s gone.  My father…”. He pointed towards the hospital doors with his chin.  “He’s dying.”  He hunched over the greasy box of chicken, potato strips and biscuits, eating like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

She sighed.

He looked at her, and she shook her head, and ate the food he brought her.  You are going to go off the rails Max Phillips.  You are going to go off the rails so badly and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The Present:

He entered the library through the basement, crept up the stairway.  The first floor was nearly empty…the university library kept late hours so that students could cram late into the night, but it was Thirsty Thursday and most of the students were elsewhere.  

He waited until you were focused on the book cart again, back towards the main floor, and got himself around the corner.  Then he pulled out his cell and dialed the front desk.

You now turned to go to the phone, at least he hoped so, as he disconnected the call and opened the side door to the area behind the circulation desk…

You were there, leaning against the cart, arms folded.  “Nice try, but I know your tricks, Mister Phillips.”

He grinned and advanced on her, step by step.

“No no…”. You point a finger at him.  “Stay back, this is a work place…”. You shoot a look towards the front desk as he backs you into your office.   “You are going to lose me my job.”  You hiss at him, and he bends a little, and kisses you breathless.

“Quit.  I’ll take care of you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He’s cool to the touch.  It’s not disconcerting, not like it used to be.  “I wish I could.”

“Stop wishing...”

“If you say ‘and make your dreams a reality’, I’ll bite you.”  

Max looks offended.  “It’s a great slogan!  Do you know how many units of Losapill those golden words have sold?”

“I don’t understand how I can love someone so much and want to punch them so badly.”

He grins down at you.  “I can name several reasons why you love me.”

You smirk up at him.  “I’m sure you can…let me go, honey.  I’ve got to tell everyone we’re closing in half an hour.”  He listened to your voice on the loudspeaker, buttery and gentle and reassuring, and smiled a little. He could listen to that voice forever.  He could sell holy water to a priest, but so far all his skills had failed to net him the one thing he wanted.

He walks with you, as you check the restrooms (He even does the men’s for you on each floor, turning off the lights and blocking the doors open) and stands behind you, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy as you gently tell students to take their books to the front desk if they needed to check them out, that the library was closing shortly.

He waits, patiently, while you close up and lock the doors and usher the last people out.  

“I really wish you’d let me turn you,” he says when you are both in your car and on the way home.  Max often took the rooftops from his office to the university.  He was fast, and strong, and being fairly indestructible made him long for the thrill of possibly getting hurt, so he parkoured his way through the city once it got dark.  It was disgusting, how he looked so good after running and leaping five miles.

He shifts in his seat as you let the silence grow.  “Are you ignoring me?”

“Yes.”  You stop at a red light.  

“Why?  You said you’d think about it.  You’ve been thinking about it for a month.  Any idea where you are on it?  Like, from the scale of one to ten…”

You’ve been wanting to avoid this.  You’ve really been wanting to avoid this.  “Zero.”

She waits.  She waits for the torrent of salesmanship.  The spiel.  Why becoming a vampire and living forever is what she wants, she just doesn’t know it’s yet.  

For once, words fail him.  No quick comeback, no charming lines. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me.”  He says it so softly that you almost aren’t sure you heard it.  

You pull into the apartment parking lot, picks a spot quickly you can park and take his hands in yours.  “Max.  I do.  I really do.  But just…I don’t want to be a vampire.  I don’t want to give up the things I would have to give up?”

“Like what?  Death?  Getting old?  Getting sick?  Being weak?”  He pulls his hands away.  “I am offering you unlimited time.  Think of the things we can do together!  And you don’t have to kill…I haven't killed anyone in ages!”

“Sunlight.”  You say.  “Food.”  He makes a disgusted sound and looks out the window.  “A family.”  You take a deep breath.  “Children.”

He finally looks at you again.  “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”  He raises his hand, and time goes wonky for a moment, and when things snap back into place, he’s gone.

You stay in your car a long time, hoping he’ll come back. Every step up to your apartment, you look around, hoping.  

It’s dawn, before you give up, dried out from crying, your mouth feels full of ashes and your heart full of regret.

The next day:

Max was not in a good mood the next day.  Usually he has a nice word for, if no one else, his PA, a miracle worker of a woman he’d always been fond of, but he just glared at her and slams his door shut.

Emails.  Reports.  He plowed into work.  

The door opened, and he ignored it, steadfast in the hope that whoever it was would go the fuck away.   I could always eat them.  I don’t have to be good anymore.

A cup thumped down on his desk.  He looked up.  He didn’t recognize the woman — her steel grey hair was neat, her suit elegant.  Her heart beat strangely, and he could tell she was not — quite—human.  Great.  Someone new from corporate?

“I thought you said that everyone loves chocolate?”  She said, pointing at the milkshake.  “You’ve come far, since we last spoke outside the hospital…”

He shook his head.  “I remember you, but…”. How did she come to be here? Why? His brain was still trying to match up the homeless lady with the epitome of corporate flash in front of him.  

“Now, I didn’t say you moved in a good direction.  How did the sweet boy who spent his last twenty on dinner for himself and a homeless woman end up being a bloodsucking asshole selling fake products?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s schedule an appointment, maybe for the next century?”

“Nope.”  She reached across the desk.  “You gonna drink this?”

He shook his head and she took the milkshake, leaned back in her chair, moving the straw back and forth in the lid, making an annoying shriek sound that hurt his ears.  

“Do you think I wanted this?”  He snapped at her.  Vampires didn’t really need much in the way of sleep, but he was tired.  Tired and hurt.  “And who gives you the right to fucking judge me?”

“I’m one of the gentry,” she said.  “That doesn’t give me the right, but it gives me the power.”

“You’re fae.  That explains it.  You don’t seem human.”  

“I thought they taught you the rules.  You never call us out so clearly.  Always call us by some euphemism and hope we don’t take a notion to turn our attention towards you.”

He threw up his hands.  “Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because if I wanted to, Max Phillips, I could turn you back into the weak, dying, foolish mortal you once were.”

This stopped him.  “You could?”  He said carefully.  

“I could.”

“What’s the catch?”

She smiled.  “Good boy.  Maybe they did teach you something, after all.”  She put the milkshake on the desk.  ”You were…what?  Twenty, twenty one when you got turned?  I could, if I wanted to, make it as if you never got turned.  I could choose for you to age to the age you should be, had you not cheated death…or I could make you start from where you are right now.  If I was feeling so inclined.”

“Why would I want that?”  He scoffed.  “Do you think I want to get old and sick?  Do you think I want to spend the last year of my life in a hospital bed, unable to even piss for myself?  You think this is a fucking gift?  Enticing?  No.”

“So you don’t want a life with the librarian? Probably for the best. She is made out of sunlight and deserves so much better.”

He stopped.  He could feel the slipping…where the darker side of him started clambering up, eager to take control and rend and kill.  

“Hush.”  She said, and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, the fangs stopped aching.  “I shouldn’t needle.  It’s just so frustrating.  You were a sweet boy and you just allowed the bad in your life to make you…well, frankly, a bit of a jackass.”  She shoot him an apologetic look.  “OK, that was a cruddy apology.  But.  Back to the subject at hand.  Once, you were kind to me.  And if you do me a favor — one more favor — I will give you a choice.  A chance to choose a life for yourself instead of being a victim of bad choices and worse luck.  No strings.  No further price.”

He side eyed her a long moment.  He was intrigued, despite himself.  “What’s the favor?”

She took a small painting out of her pocket and slid it over to him.  “Another debt to pay…that woman has a soul mate out there.  I know where he is.  If you get her to my house tomorrow night, I can unite them, give them a chance at well deserved happiness.”

“Yeuch.”  He said, then picked up the painting.  “Wait.  That’s my PA.”

“Is it?  How delightful.  Isn’t just splendid how fate intervenes.”  She put a card on the desk.  “This is the address.  Hope to see you.”  She held up her finger.  “There is one thing.  She can’t know.  You have to get her there without her knowing why.  Alright?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”  He muttered.

“Good.  I am glad you understand.  Ciao!”

He picked up the card.  And cursed a bit.

NIght, in the time middle of nowhere:

“So, Mister Phillips…are you taking me out into the middle of the woods to murder me?”  His PA asked, laughing.  She didn’t know he was a vampire.  Telling people what he was hadn’t worked out very well at his last job, so he’d been much more circumspect this time.

“I promise, you are safe.  From me.  I don’t know what Corporate will do, though,” he said, turning down another road.  

“So, did they tell you what the meeting is about?”

“It’s meant to be a retreat.  All the heads of the various branches and their PA’s.  They want to re-envision the future of the company”. He took one hand off the wheel to put air quotes in the right place.  “Apparently they messed up your email address so we didn’t get the invite in time.  Someone caught it and called me directly.”

“I hope the place they picked is nice…”. She was looking out the window, trying to make out the road ahead. ��“Carol in accounting is super jealous.  I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

“Well, I am irresistible.”

“Mostly.”  She grinned at him.  A square of light grabbed her attention.  “I think we’re here.”

He pulled up to the house.  It looked sketchy at best, and the looks his PA were casting made him wonder if her trust was stretching a little too thin.

He got out and walked up to the porch.  The Fae came out this time wearing a chic, flowery dress.  She ignored Max and called to his PA.  “Don’t be afraid.  You are here so I can talk to you about your dreams…and by that, I mean the Spaniard, with the scar over his eye.”

The PA froze.  “You…you know about him?”  

“Go inside, dear, and I will tell you all about him.  But I need to talk to Max, here, first”

His PA stopped next to him, put her hand on his arm.  “Will you be OK?”

“Absolutely.  You know me.”

She went into the house.  

“Come here, Max.”  The Fae held out her hand, gesturing him to come up to the porch.  He did.  A card table was set up, with one chair.  Two cards lay face down.  “Here is your choice.  Are you ready?”

He stood there, looking at the table, and nodded.  Fear coursed through him, as strong as the day cold hands grabbed him from behind, teeth sinking into his throat…

She reached down and flipped over a card.  The Queen of Spades.  “Darkness ever lasting.  A vampire queen even now is looking for her equal.  She will choose you, and the two of you will know power beyond your wildest dreams…until enough people get angry about it and decide to deal with you both.  You will not love her, but who needs love when you have sex and death and all the power you ever hoped for?”

She reaches again, flips over another card.  The Queen of Hearts.  “And this.  This is life.  Your soul will wake up, and you will be twenty one and full of possibilities again.  Your heart will beat every beat that was stolen from you.  The slate will not be wiped entirely clean, but you will have a chance — a chance with your lovely librarian.  Children.  Be kind when you were once cruel, and live a decent, good life.”  

His lips were numb.  “How…how long?”

“Long enough.  You will not feel cheated.  It will be a plain sort of life, but it will be yours, and you will have the woman you love…some would say that is worth dying for.”

“What do you know about death?  Your kind just fade when they are tired of living.  You will never know the absolute fucking horror of your body betraying you.  The fucking humiliation that waits.  The pain.”

“No.”  She said softly.  “I do not.”  She kissed his temple.  “I am sorry.  If I had met you sooner, perhaps…but, in any case, I consider all debts paid.  When you are ready, pick up the card representing your choice, and rip it in half.  Choose well, Maxwell Phillips.  May we never meet again.”

He didn’t notice her leave.  He sat down, weak, at the table.

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  

He’d seen both his parents die terribly.  After he was turned, he’d mourned, then he realized the gift he’d been given.  No hospitals.  No lingering disease.  No pain.

His hand hovered next to the Queen of Spades.  No love, but power and sex.  He’d tried to recover, tried to be good, for you.  And he’d started feeling the guilt.  And with guilt, came all the excuses.  That he was living according to the nature that had been forced upon him.  That he was giving people a gift…they died, or they become something that could never die.

You don’t punish the wolf for being a wolf.

But that was why it had been easy to walk away.  Because you deserved better.  Not a vampire.  Not a wolf.  A man…

He did not hear the car, but he heard the thump of the other man’s steps as he mounted the porch.  

“She’s in there…”  he said, barely paying attention.  

When the other man left, he repeated what he said to him, in his head.  Choosing between life and death.

He picked up the Queen of Hearts.  His hands were shaking.  He ripped the card in half.  Darkness roared around him, pulled him under.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of his apartment.  

No.  His fucking.  College.  Dorm room.

“Dude, you started early.”  Evan’s stupid face appeared as he bent over him.  

Max wondered if he could punch him in the face.  It would feel really, really good to punch the other man in the face,

“OK, well, I’m going to an away game…see you sometime tomorrow.”

He put the palms of his hands in his eyes.  “Yeah…have fun.”

Evan stepped over him.  “See ya…wouldn’t want to be ya!”  The door slammed shut and Max raised both hands in a one finger salute towards it.

He made himself get up and go to the bathroom.  He looked younger but not better, per se.  What is wrong with me?  What’s this feeling?

It wasn’t just that he could feel his body working.  Feel breath (was breathing always so fucking noisy?) and heat beats and aches in his neck and back from laying weird on the floor.

He’d lived for years.  But right now, he was still the same angry, miserable hit mess of a man he’d been at this point of his life.  

A phone was ringing, he went and grabbed it.

“Hey Maxie.  Is Evan gone?”  Evan’s girlfriend.  Great.

Oh.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look…”

“Awesome.  I bought the cutest bra and panties…”

And this is where, he thought, this is where he took the step to becoming the man you deserved him to be.  “That’s great.  But you know…I only want to fuck you because your boyfriend is an annoying twit.”

Shocked silence.  OK still an asshole.  Check.  So much for being a sweet boy when I was younger.  “Look. I meant what I said.  You are beautiful. You are probably far, far too good for Evan. Or maybe not, if you are willing to screw around with an asshole like me. In any case, you deserve better. But you have to decide what better is.”

This treated him to a string of profanity before the woman hung up.

Then, he walked to the infirmary, and asked for aspirin. And if there were any free spots for the therapist.

Sunday, the conversation between roommates went like this:

“So you were going to screw my girlfriend?”

A shrug — Max concentrated on the video game.  “Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He paused the game.  “Because you deserve better.”

He felt Evan throw himself on the couch next to him.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just so fucking happy and peppy and optimistic and everything is going to be awesome but I think the world is shit and misery and maybe if you dialed it back a little I we could have conversations that didn’t end with me wanting to punch your face.”

“Dude.”  It sounded defeated and apologetic at the same time.

Max held a controller out to him. “Sorry. I’ll try to be less of an asshole.”

He took it.  “I’ll try to be less…happy?”

Max sighed.  “Just don’t get me kicked out, ok? I can’t afford anywhere else and I really don’t want to end up in Transylvania.”

Two years later, he decided he could go and find you.

Most people went to nice places on their spring break.

Max got on a bus and headed to a University in the next state.  They’d had their Spring break a week sooner.

There you were. Sitting cross legged on a bench with a man with a streak of blonde in his hair, and a suit coat with elbow patches.  Elbow patches.  Pretentious asshole.

You were tucking hair behind your ear. You liked him. Max wondered if he should leave, come back…in a year?  Three?  When did he have a right to become part of your life?  Did he even?

You look at him and smile and it is sunshine and he can’t leave.

The man on the bench says something about class.  “See you at work,” she tells him, and he lopes off in an easy walk to one of the brick covered class buildings.

Max approaches carefully.  “Hey.  Um.  I’m thinking about transferring here, wondered what it’s like?”

She shifted her bag over, even though there was plenty of room to sit, and he took it as an invite.  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

He gave her his best smile. “Everything. I want to know everything.”

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

Can you write something where the shyest boys finally kiss their crush at a party in a human au. But then some other mischievous character catches it on camera. Then they try to show it to everyone to tease them? (Not really maliciously more playfully. More like a trickster.) Sorry, but I am a sucker for shy characters since I am shy myself.

So my shy boys in my human AU are Japan, Canada, Russia and England (I'd put Romano but he's just a lone wolf who tends to bite when he's disturbed. Metaphorically.)

A/N: I HIT ONE OF MY NOTIFICATION POP UPS AND IT FORCED ME OUT OF THE FIRST DRAFT! I had to redo Japan and Canada's scenerios •́ J ,•̀

Human AU: Shy Boys kiss their crush! On TAPE!?

Japan:

He wasn't really enjoying the party Alfred was throwing. The only reason he was there was over the fact he promised to record some footage for a homemade music video, and he knew his crush was going to be there.

At some point he found himself watching his crush as they danced away with their friends. Was it kind of creepy? Yes. Did Kiku realize this at the moment? No.

He just about jumped out of his skin as his crush made eye contact with him, and his heartbeat quickened as they started dancing towards him.

"Hey Kiku! I thought you didn't like parties?"

"H-hai! I do not usually partake in such events, but I promised Alfred I'd get footage for one of his YouTube videos..."

His crush's head tilted, not hearing him through the loud music and talking. Even with him shouting he wasn't loud enough. So naturally he had them follow him to the porch.

He could have sworn that every star in the night sky was reflecting in his crush's eyes as they were waiting for him to repeat his anwser.

"I have to admit to some urges that have been occuring..." (Not what he was hoping he'd say)

Kiku cringed at his wording, and cursed himself for cramming so many english classes in before he transferred to America. He only calmed back down after hearing his crush laugh and egg him on to continue.

"I... kisu si te ii desu ka?" (Can I kiss you?)

Even though he was rather nervous, he was pretty close with his crush. During their lunches they asked him to teach them japanese so they can help him with translations. Even after two years they still had trouble with it.

"... What about a kiss? oh! Did you kiss someone at the party!"

His face turned red, and he shook it rapidly.

"No! You!"

"What do I have to do with a kiss and you- Oh!"

Kiku covered his face as his crush slowly caught on to his question. Soon enough they had taken his hands away, and lightly pecked his lips.

Flash.

That looked like the flash of a camera. Sure enough Alfred and England were standing at the doorway, polaroid camera in hand. Al being his usual loud self.

"I saw you bring them out here and just KNEW something was going to happen! Didn't I tell you, you had it in you! Now the whole class must know of your bravery!"

By the time Alfred finished his speech, Kiku was already after him. Sadly he was no match for Al's speed due to tripping over everyone, and everything.

Canada:

It wasn't like he was exactly shy, but he didn't have many friends since not many people in his class had much in common with him. His only real friend was his crush, so of course he was terrified to ruin that friendship. Though the constant jokes the others at the party made didn't help, since most of it revolved around them dating.

He was also getting more and more frustrated with the amount of attention his crush was getting. Some of it they welcomed with open arms, some of it not so much. The thing that really annoyed him was seeing Alfred himself flirt with them.

This was the final straw that gave him the courage to walk up to him, and accuse him directly.

"Why are you flirting with my date?"

"Date? I thought you said they were just a friend?"

Mathew had turned his head towards his crush, and planted a light kiss on their lips.

"There. Now we are!"

Matt's face went pale as he realized the scene that was playing out got the attention of some party goers. Phones already recording in case a fight broke out. Leaving no possibly way to get everyone to delete those videos.

Not realizing his crush had a hold of his hand to prevent any conflict, he tugged them out the door, trying his best to shield his face.

Once outside they both sat on the stone slabs of the sidewalk. Matt's crush clearing their throat to help stop the akward moment.

"You know... If you wanted to kiss me, you should have just asked..."

"Oh maple leaf! I am so sorry! I didn't even know I had it in me!"

His crush shook their head, chuckling, then leaned in for another kiss.

"There. Now we're even."

All matt could do was repeat their words with a dreamy sigh.

"Now we're even..."

Russia:

Ivan was already pretty shy, but he really wanted to hangout with his crush. So he let them rope him into going to the party Francis was having. It was a small party, so it wasn't all bad. Other than no one wanting to talk to him due to his lack of English.

His crush was certainly doing plenty of talking through out the night though, and they eventually pulled him aside to ask him something.

"Hey, Ivan? You okay? You don't look like you're enjoying yourself much".

His crush knew to keep sentences as simple and short as possible since he struggled with English. But he still managed a good enough response.

"Da. I am... Not good at the parties. Not one person, speeches? To Ivan..."

His crush smiled, reaching up to playfully ruffle his hair, earning a small giggle.

"You mean to say 'no one speaks to me'. I'm sorry. It can be hard, da?"

He nodded at them. Giving a smile knowing his crush at least tries to conversate with him. But there was something else on his mind. The more they talked, the more he seemed to stare at their lips. He was struggling more and more with hiding his blush. Eventually his crush took it as a sign he was overheating and they dragged him to the bathroom to splash water to his face.

"It is too warm for a turtle neck and scarf! Your face is very warm!"

Ivan shook his head, face getting redder from the embarrassment.

"Nyet!"

His crush gave a look of confusion, and Ivan took this as a sign to try and explain.

"You do much of the talking. I... Do much of the seeing. Nyet. I do much of the-"

He gestured his gaze to his crush's lips, unable to convey his message and when it still didn't sink in for them, Ivan did the next best thing out of pure frustration.

He kissed them. It felt like forever, but it was cut too short as the sound of a gasp interrupted them. Breaking away he spotted Francis standing at the door that was left wide open. A phone with the light on, signalling it was recording them.

"Oh ho ho! This is quite the confession! A love that goes beyond language barriers is just as strong as love itself!"

Ivan couldn't seem to follow Francis' words, especially because he was more concerned with the phone footage.

"You take video for just us, da?"

Francis gave a smirk and took off without another word. Ivan wasn't dumb when it came to body language, and he took off after him. Taking no time at all to corner Francis, scaring everyone else as the two of them bickered over the phone.

"Throw out the phone!"

"I will do no such thing!

"I will throw you instead!"

It took his crush snagging the phone and deleting the video for everything to finally settle back down.

England:

He was kind of popular in the sense everyone knew him as the punk kid who could play the electric guitar. But so did others students so he wasn't exactly special. So yeah, he was wicked shy and insecure about how everyone viewed him.

But his crush seemed to treat him differently, and honestly? He was secretly hoping that meant they really liked him. Maybe even more than liked!

The best part is, he wasn't even expecting his crush to show up at some random person's party. He, himself, was only there to help a band entertain. But there they were, his crush, dancing and bopping along to the music.

He found himself making a lot of eye contact with them, and when the first break came around, he bounced off the makeshift stage. His crush immediately walking over to him to pester.

"That was amazing! I didn't know you played so well!"

Arthur pulled at his bangs.

"Thanks love. It means quite a lot coming from you. Especially because you didn't expect to see me here, of all places..."

"Actually I-"

Before they could continue, they were dragged off by some of their friends to be introduced to someone. He decided to follow, wanting to know what the fuss was about. And of course his crush's friends were trying to hook them up with... Francis...

He gave a verbal sigh, watching his crush shift uncomfortably as Francis did his best to act all suave. His crush looked back at him with pleading eyes. This gave him an idea.

He walked over, slinging an arm around their shoulder, speaking up and over their conversation.

"There you are darling! I've been searching the whole bloody house for you! Oh, hello Francis. I didn't see you there!"

Things got intense, and before anyone knew it, Francis and Arthur had gotten into a fist fight. There wasn't a particular winner, but Arthur certainly left the fight with the only bruised lip. Sitting at one of the spare couches, his crush tended to the bruise.

"I can't believe you did that! Are you nuts? Why do you two fight anyway!"

"I'm sorry love... It's just... He gets in the way is all".

"In the way of what? Some male pride?"

"...you"

Silence filled the space between them, only to be broken by the chaste and airy kiss from his crush.

"I didn't know..."

"Part of me didn't want you too..."

Neither of them knew someone had recorded them until the day they returned to the college. Someone had thought it was funny to make a "fancam" of Arthur "fighting for his loved one". The only words his new lover could mutter was:

"At least no one is going to have to ask us if we're together now..."

[writingsbychlo]

let me down slow (epilogue)

word count; 2830

summary; it’s moving day, and stiles is getting his dorm all set up with the sheriff, while you and mitch still have a considerable amount more unpacking to do.

notes; I know some of y’all didn’t like the events of part eight, but you’re just gonna’ have to deal with it, because they’re adorable, it was all a misunderstanding, and they deserve the world.

warnings; none, really. some vaguely dirty innuendoes, that’s it.

Smoothing your hands over the poster on the wall, you pressed it flat to the plaster, holding it steady as Stiles pinned it down straight, and you cheered once the final one was up, the collection of Star Wars posters lining the walls making the room seem entirely perfect for your best friend. Hopping down from the bed, you smoothed out the covers, before letting both of your hands fly up to meet Stiles’ in a set of high fives, and the pair of you cheered as you took it all in.

“It’s really getting there!”

The oversized corkboard he loved so much was sitting against one wall, a shelf you’d spent almost an hour trying to put up between the pair of you as the Sheriff laughed was now assembled, with three baskets sitting along it. The first contained bundles of assorted pins and paperclips for putting up the vast assortment of photos and collage pieces that added, the space freshly cleared so that he could build it up ready for the new year. The second basket contained his camera, with a selection of different types of film for interesting shots, and the third was filled with pens and note pads for all the annotations and quotes he would put under each picture. 

The opposite wall was lined with six matching Star Wars posters, showing off the promotional pictures and titles of the originals and the prequels, a prized possession that you’d bought for Stiles as a graduation present, so that he didn’t have to take his collection at home down and travel them across the country. His desk was already cluttered with notebooks and pens, and the closet was brimming with flannelled shirts. The bookcase was stacked with textbooks and DVDs. Above the desk was pinned a campus map, class schedule, time table and a calendar, all for his convenience, because Stiles had already voiced his desire to cram as many college experiences into his first year as he possibly could, he wanted to live life to the fullest.

Along the windowsill were photo frames with his favourite pictures of everyone from back home, and he was proudly staring at the final few boxes on the floor, as his dad carried the last one in, the final clothes he had ready to be unpacked into the set of drawers beside his bed, your hand coming up to wipe across your forehead in false exhaustion as you looked around. 

“It’s fitting for you, kid.”

His voice was a little rough, and you could tell that the Sheriff was holding back his emotions as he sent his youngest son off to college, too. He held his arms out of you both, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he let out a string of curses at the affection, but pressed his face into his father’s neck as he wrapped around one side of his body, not covering the little sniffle he let out as well as he thought he had. You were quick to follow in his footsteps, tucking yourself happily under the older man’s chin, and you squeezed the two men in a tight hug. 

You easily remained that way, knowing that the two were each trying to hide their emotions, and you smiled to yourself at the thought, rolling your eyes softly. “You know, dad, I’m going to be checking with Melissa that you’re still eating healthy. Don’t think you can start eating bacon and fries every day now just because I’m gone.”

“You’re the worst.”

You giggled as he pushed you both away, but he ruffled your hair fondly, and you decided to lighten the mood a little, turning to swipe the camera from its place on the shelf, checking it was loaded with film before handing the polaroid device over to Noah. “I think we need to take the first picture to put up, don’t you?”

Stiles gasped, nodding happily before turning to you, and you pressed your hands to his shoulder once he’d turned back to face his father, and you jumped up as high as you could, sealing you legs above his hips and he gripped at your thighs, letting out a laugh as you landed on his back, your hands wrapping around his neck. With the cheesiest grin that you could muster, the Sheriff gave you a count down, before clicking the camera and waiting as the small piece of paper pushed it’s way out of the device, before handing it over to you both and putting the camera down on the desk.

Holding up the little slip, he waited patiently as the colour began to drip into it, the picture slowly revealing itself, and you let out a squeal once it became properly formed, so that you could see the image clearly. “I love it! Pin it!”

You tapped his shoulders, and he moved eagerly across to the board, selecting a pin and pushing it through the card, securing it to the very centre of the board. Only a second later, he was grabbing a red pen and a yellow post-it note, scribbling down a reminder before adding the note to the photo, and you peaked over his shoulder to read it. 

‘Move-in Day, August 2020’

You grinned, taking the pen and adding a little heart to it, before placing your hands on your hips and looking around the room. The phone you’d left on the bedside table a while ago buzzed loudly, chiming a little tune as it did, and you jumped at the interruption. Stiles moved across the room for you, picking up the device before letting out a long groan, and you chuckled at his reaction, already knowing who it must be.

“It’s my brother. Your boyfriend. Ew, I hate the sound of it, still.” You grinned at his words, sticking your tongue out as you took it from him, scanning your eyes over the message, before reaching for your bag and sealing the device inside, lifting it up onto your shoulder. “Time to go?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. You’re unpacking these last few boxes alone.” You joked, and he huffed, kicking at one lightly with the toe of his shoes. 

“Not alone, Dad is here to h-”

“Dad is going back to the hotel to rest his back and take a shower. Stiles is alone and putting his own laundry away for the first time in his life.” His dad grinned, and the boy let out a whine at it, stomping his foot a little before giving in. 

“See you tonight, at the restaurant?”

“We will meet you there.” His face scrunched up once again.

“I can’t get with the referring to you and Mitch as a ‘we’. I’m not used to it.” You shrugged, but leaned up to press a friendly kiss to his cheek, before letting him wrap you up in a tight hug, and brush his lips to your temple. “I’ll get used to it. I’m just glad you’re happy.”

His dad left the room, leaving you both to your moment, even though you were only saying goodbye for a few hours, but he was a little jittery once the door had closed. 

“Can I tell you something, before you go? I don’t want it to be a big deal, but I do want to tell you first.” You nodded, brows furrowing as he fiddled with his fingers between your bodies worriedly, and you reached up to place your hand over his own, letting him lace your fingers together. “Now that I’m not obsessing over Lydia anymore, and I’m in college and really taking a minute to get to know myself, I think I discovered something.”

“Is it good?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I think so.” He was nervous, biting down on his lower lip, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly in an attempt to tell him that it was okay. “I think I might be bi.”

A blushing tinge spread over his cheeks, his eyes ducked to avoid your own as the heat spread up to his ears and painted his pale skin pink, and you leaned in to press your body to his, your arms wrapping around him tightly, and he let out a deep sigh, before wrapping himself around you once again, his body sagging out of relief. 

“There was this guy in my welcome lecture, and he was really good looking, and while I was still in my Lydia phase I didn’t really think about anyone else that way, so I was pretty shocked when my first thought was about a guy, but then he asked me if I wanted to get coffee before the semester starts, and I said yes. We’ve been texting for a few days, now.” The words came out jumbled and hurried, and you stepped back to look at him, making sure to catch his gaze as he gave you a nervous smile. 

“I’m so happy for you, Stiles.”

“I’m going to tell my dad and brother at dinner tonight, but I just needed some support.” You nodded, before stepping back as he let out a relieved laugh and wiped a hand over his face. “God, I feel so much better. I hate keeping things from you. I don’t know how you did it for months, having secrets with you kills me.”

“It wasn’t without a lot of suffering, trust me.”

He grinned, before nudging you towards the door. “See you in a couple of hours.” You simply nodded, waving your goodbye to the Sheriff as he chatted with the other parents of Stiles’ various roommates for the year, and you made your way to the door, stepping out into the corridor. 

With hurried steps, you made your way down the stairs, knowing it would be quicker than taking the elevator, and you were just glad Stiles was living on the first floor, you really weren’t sure he’d be able to handle hiking up twelve layers worth of stairs to the top floor on a tired day if the lift ever broke. 

It wasn’t a short walk to the place you had promised to meet your boyfriend, and the walk was enjoyable, hot sun shining down and a light breeze carrying through the campus, cooling you down from the heat. Shuffling through your bag, you searched for your sunglasses, lifting them out to place them on your face, and letting out a happy sigh when you no longer had to squint. 

You could already see the man you were waiting to meet, his body coming into view as he sat on the edge of the fountain, scrolling idly on his phone as he waited for you, the bag slumped on the floor beside his feet was spilling out with textbooks and his laptop, and his hair was messy from constantly running through it. Picking up your speed a little, you made your way over to him and took up before him, your shadow falling across him. He glanced up, expression stoic and stony before he realised who it was, and his face split open in a wide grin as his entire demeanour brightened. 

“Thought you were standing me up for a second there. You’re late.”

“Yeah, well, I got caught up. You can believe that I will never just leave you hanging.” You offered, and he scooped up his bag, swinging the strap over his shoulder before standing up, and he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

Pulling you in towards himself, he bumped the tip of his nose with your own, before letting out a sigh. “I know you wouldn't.” He pressed his lips to your own, a sweet kiss that made your heart thud and your mind spin, before you were pushing up into him a little further. Resting your hands on his shoulders, his own slipped down to your waist, holding your body to his as his mouth moved with your own in gentle rhythms, and giving you one final peck when he pulled away. “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely.” He took your hand in his, pulling you away toward the direction of the apartment the two of you had so carefully chosen together, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked. He twisted, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, and you squeezed you hand in acknowledgement of his affections. “Guess who I ran into earlier?”

“Who?”

“The redhead from a few weeks back.” He stiffened underneath you, only relaxing when you paused, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips as he fixed you with a worried glance. “Her name is Cassandra, which you never told me, and she’s actually really nice. We arranged to go for coffee.”

He practically choked on his breath, turning to look at you with wide and worried eyes as he held the door to the building open for you, and you slipped through, letting him follow as you laughed lightly at his reaction. “What was she doing there?”

“Her friend was moving into Stiles’ building, and she was helping out.” You shrugged, the two of you stepping into the elevator and you were glad to be alone, leaning back against the wall and pushing your glasses up onto the top of your head to peer at him, raising a brow. “Hey, stop freaking out. I can see the cogs working in your head. She asked about us, you know.”

“What did she say?”

“Just wanted to know if I was all good, and if things worked out.” You shrugged a little, your glasses slipping on your head, and you detangled them from your loose hair and put them away once again. “I told her that we’re doing amazing, and that I’ve never been so happy, and that we have a place together with a whole bunch of plans for the future.”

He finally let his shoulders drop from the tension he’d built up, before tucking some hair away behind your ears and stepping in towards you, crowding you into the wall a little further. “Never been so happy, huh?”

“Totally and one hundred percent in love with you.”

“I love you too.” He whispered the words into your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you, barely getting a chance to do so before the elevator was chiming and the doors were sliding open. You grinned in the kiss as he huffed out, pulling away and letting the two of you walk along, both of you patting down your bags to find your keys, but he found his own first, and lifting the set up to the door to open it.

Boxes still littered the room, labelled with things to be unpacked and brought out, but whereas Stiles had been unpacking only one room, the two of you had been unpacking an entire apartment, and there was still a lot to buy and a lot to set up, the flat-pack furniture box holding the coffee table the two of you had yet to assemble was sitting with coasters out and rings on top from drinks, using it for its purpose before it was even constructed. 

“We’re still on for dinner with Dad and Stiles, right? I don’t think we have any leftovers from last night’s takeout and I’m too lazy to go for a supermarket trip.” He flopped down onto the couch, and you nodded, hanging up your bag on the hooks and taking your phone from it, running you fingers through your hair and tugging on some of the knots that had built up.

“Yes, we are. Are you going to get changed, or wash up?”

“No, I'm going to take a nap.” He grinned, settling along the couch and tucking a hand behind his head, pouting his lips when he felt you lean over him. Pressing a soft and quick peck to his lips, you brushed some hair off of his forehead and out of his eyes, before standing up. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to take a shower before we go.”

You jumped when his eyes snapped back open, and he rolled up from the couch, grinning cheekily as his hands found your hips and he turned you around. “You know what, maybe I should wash up. We haven’t christened the bathroom yet, and I bet you look great on your knees in the shower.”

He tapped your ass cheekily in a light spank, and you gasped at the impact, but laughed anyway as he guided you through the halls, tugging at the bottom of your sundress as you went, until he had the material over your head, dropping it to the floor in the doorway to the bathroom. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You love it.” He teased, switching on the water and waiting for it to get hot as he stripped himself down, and you let out an exaggerated sigh. 

“I love you.”

“Good, because I love you too.”

[m-y-fandoms]

Blood on Our Stage - Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Human Female Reader -Part 1 (Slight/Platonic Female Reader x Hajime Hinata)

So, this is an old fic I updated to fit these characters because I want to continue it :)

NEEDED CONTEXT FOR THIS AU: Hajime and Nagito are step brothers, (Y/N)/Reader is a human, Hajime and Nagito are vampires, and Hajime did indeed get into the Main Course at Hope’s Peak, for acting.

The paycheck… It's all about the paycheck...

   You took a deep breath, reassuring yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time that year… or that hour.

Smile, s-smile. Breathe, lean into him. It has to look real, (Y/N). God… it’s a whole new level of crackhead when you stutter to yourself in your thoughts.

 Dissociate. 

What are we having for dinner? How many more steps ‘til that damn egg hatches? If it’s another fucking Diglett I swear I’ll go apeshit. 

You shifted to your right, the most forced of grins creeping onto your cosmetic-plastered face. You let your head fall onto Hajime’s shoulder. Convincing right? Touching is convincing. Random gentle displays of affection are convincing... 

By this time, you were nearly blind from the flash of some fifty or so cameras in your face, anyway, so why not just pretend that the photographers and press were blind as well?

  Why not, why not?

 You pretended in every other aspect of your life.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Hajime’s voice shook you out of your trance, and you turned your head, letting go of his arm, which you had grabbed out of habit. His sparklingly white teeth - sharper than the average man's - gleamed down at you, and you felt that usual pang of fear run down your spine and chill your bones. Even attached to the gums of the sweetest boy on earth, you’d never get used to the sight.

It's all a show, (Y/N), a game. Pretend. "Fangs for the fans, and all that" 

How long would that farce last until people started to realize?

  What had Hajime said earlier that month? You retreated into yourself, thinking deeply, trying desperately to calm the anxiety that rose with at the sight of his flesh-tearing canines...

   _______________________________________________________________

"I can bare my fangs at interviews, photoshoots… you know, when the paparazzi are around. It’s what my dad wants,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Don't worry about it, (Y/N). Honestly, you freak out over the silliest things sometimes.” He ruffled your hair. “It will look like I'm dedicated to the role, or something like that… whatever. People will love it, trust me."

      ___________________________________________________________

But you never could. How could you? A monster with a secret, stupidly displaying that secret openly to the world? No… trusting meant removing little stones from that carefully built wall, which sub-sequentially meant getting hurt, and not just emotionally. You recited this mantra to yourself almost routinely; something you’d picked up from someone very close to your heart. Isn’t it funny how we steal little bits of personality from those we love most?

You knew Hajime just followed whatever his father commanded, that he’d do anything to feel like he mattered, that people cared. He’d done all this: the acting lessons, depending on daddy’s money, the unless studying and promoting himself, just to get into that stupid school and kickstart his illustrious career.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)??" Hajime tenderly brought his hand up, stroking your shoulder awkwardly. The clench in his jaw, however, wasn't friendly at all. You couldn’t really blame him, though. He was doing it for your sake, after all. You had to get through this, and he knew he had to pull you through; everything depended on it.

How could this flock of idiots not tell the “chemistry” was forced???

"Uh… o-of course! Yeah!" You smiled, a fake chuckle escaping your lips, and the crowd of reporters and internet journalists roared in front of you. Of course they did… wasn't everything the disciplined and people-pleasing boy beside you said fucking hilarious? You sighed, returning your gaze to the mass of people below you as you and your leading man sat raised on a platform behind a pretentiously high table.

    Just let Hajime handle all the questions, you thought to yourself indifferently. You always did. They rarely directed them at you specifically, anyway. So much for your dream: to stun the world as an independent starlet, a crimson-hot femme fatale. It was always ‘Hinata Hajime’s doe-eyed leading lady!’, ‘Hajime’s little love interest!’, never ‘(Y/N) (L/N)... featuring Hajime Hinata!’ But... you were famous, and with no little chunk of change to boot… you should’ve been thankful… right?

So why weren’t you…?

  Your eyes scanned the faces before you, and you realized that you hadn't… really looked at them until now. Yes, the usual prolific online bloggers and huge theatre junkies were there, and Mr. Hinata of course. He wouldn't miss out on one of his company’s press meetings for the world, especially with his money-making beloved son in the spotlight. He was so anal, how could anything possibly go off without a hitch unless he was there?

You wondered if the girl next to him knew he was a ravenous monster as well, but thought better of it. Of course, she didn't know. You shouldn't have even known. But you did, and it plagued you every day of your life.

  Fuck... you just wanted to go back to your room and overthink in peace. It was embarrassingly uncomfortable to do so in public

Mr. Hinata sat sternly upright, with his polished, slick hair, in his polished, slick shoes and extravagantly tailored navy suit, his secretary at his side, brushing his hand unnoticeably between the chairs. His wife would never care, anyway. To their right sat a rosy-cheeked intern, spunky and full of character. Holding a clipboard between perfectly painted nails, the only thing that spoke louder than her bright smile was her neon miniskirt. She must not have known, either. No human simply knew, and still managed to look that innocent and lively. The PR girls loved press conferences, and each new show only yielded fresh publicity. This most recent show, set to premiere the following night, was a tale of romance: A vampire lord and his human lover: a medieval era period piece. Of course, for this reason, Hajime did nothing to hide his all-too-real fangs. 

You loved a good historical romance, and loved being in one even more. It had always been your goal as a starting actress to take the lead in at least one period play, be it Victorian, colonial, medieval.. but... it had not turned out quite the way you planned...

   A few other members of the Hinata family accompanied their revered head of  the household… or was it head of the clan… coven? Whatever, it was expected. The murderous bloodsuckers always clung to their leader’s side, and could always be found lurking around Hinata’s estate, if they weren’t already crammed up his ass looking for approval.

A flash came from the reporter to the left, directly into your vision, and left you dazed.

 Fuck… you seethed internally. Calm down. Calm down. The paycheck. That's it. This is almost over, anyway. Why did you always find yourself spacing out at the worst possible times? You acknowledged that it was how your body coped with the overwhelming urge to break down, but damn if it wasn’t inconvenient at the minute. Nothing screamed ‘I have something to hide’ like acting shady in front of a hundred people…

You leaned into Hajime again. Sell the relationship. Sell the love.

You exhaled in exhaustion. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Hajime… you did, just, not like this. Never like this. Lying to millions of fans and the press, pretending Hajime was anything other than a brother-like figure to you just to line his father’s pockets, tore you apart more than keeping his immortality a secret. Denying you both a chance at real love for fear of scandal… you were sure that there was no phrase you’d ever grow to hate more than “The Hinata Theatre Company!” Ironic, wasn’t it, that at one point in time, you begged to be here?

You found that scoping out a crowd lowered the anxiety you had about actually being in front of them. It's funny, many people asked how you could possibly be afraid of crowds or public speaking when you were a damn Broadway-level star. Your answer was always the same: your rush of adrenaline and passion for theatre got you through a show, but anywhere else but on that stage, and a crowd turned your mind to jelly. It was different… walking out for a performance tamed the butterflies that flew around inside your stomach.

  Of course, there was always the fact that your boss could tear you apart at a moment’s notice that contributed to the anxiety, but you obviously couldn't share that little bit of information with anyone. It was all so hard to process, that this kind young man beside you could be something so fearsome, that your whole life was a public sham. You’d never forget the day you’d found out… how it changed everything. You shouldn’t have to be afraid of your best friend, you just shouldn’t. But how could you ever truly trust him again?

Your eyes bounced once, twice around the room.

  ...No

   You gasped, breath catching in your throat as your eyes caught on something that caused you to jump slightly in your seat.

"You ok?" Hajime whispered, the crowd going noticeably silent for a moment. Mr. Hinata glared in your direction. A silent warning, reminding you that even one wrong move made his company look bad, and that would not end so well for you. That was the shining aspect of Hajime’s personality, that he was nothing like his father.

"Yeah, y-yeah," you spoke airily, cheeks heating. "I just slipped to the edge of my seat a little, almost fell!" You lied timidly, a small laugh.

They'll eat that shit up. Soft-spoken, innocent, clumsy girls are all the rage! Of course, Hajime picked up on the lie immediately, catching the change in tone, the skipping of your heartbeat. Being an immortal freak had its perks.

The bright-eyed boy beside you patted your arm, the crowd chuckling politely before returning to their bombardment of questions.

Your eyes flew back to the corner of the room, back to the object that had you startled in the first place. You tried to tell yourself you’d imagined it, but there was no mistake,

 It was him...

 Standing there in the entranceway, so dimly lit, he hid in the alcove. There was no mistaking his favorite jacket, the fabric ripped and weathered from use. There was no mistaking the intricate, almost root-like pale green veins which spiraled up his arms, told a story across his milky collarbone, tumbled down his wrists, and made him all the more intimidating. Intoxicating. There was no mistaking that full head of tousled hair, brightly standing out even in the meager lighting in that disregarded corner of the room, messy whisps branching out dangerously; an air of nonchalance and bored irreverence. Smug bastard…

And there was absolutely no mistaking the way those bright eyes illuminated his white skin in contrast, a frightening and ethereal glow shooting off of him in waves. Hajime’s chestnut-brown eyes never mimicked that terrifying iridescence, but then again, Hajime never took his life-sustaining drink from a human host. Your hands began to subconsciously shake. From fear or the itching desire to… you didn’t know, throw your arms around him, touch his cheek just once... ? You never knew with him. He was a wild thing, a beast untamable. But why the hell was he here?

Carelessly he leaned against the door frame. His tongue shot out predatorily, running along his lower lip in one fluid motion. His knuckles raised, brushing against the green of his coat and coming up to scratch the side of his face.

❘ What are you doing here?! ❘ You sent your thoughts out in waves so loud you might as well have been screaming. You knew immediately that he had taken them in, absorbing your mental cursing and inner toil like sun rays. It was a power and privilege only those of his kind who were purebred enjoyed.

He did not answer, but merely tilted his head, the corner of his lip rising in that maddening grin he always threw at you. An impish smirk hiding mischief and chaotic intentions, you were sure.

You knew it would be mere moments ‘til your flawless "boyfriend" beside you noticed his presence as well, and you feared what might become of this night that was supposed to be of celebration. Almost as if on cue, Hajime’s words halted to a stop. That evil smirk only widened, a small snort shaking the intruder’s chest.

"Nagito..." Hajime murmured through clenched teeth, his hand shooting down to grab your wrist. "He's here."

  "I know..." your words shook, just loud enough for any non-human in the room to hear. Now it was time for you to be Hajime’s rock. Nagito's head bobbed, looking down at his old ripped jeans, and you saw Mr. Hinata's eye twitch before you, his vampiric hearing triggered immediately upon hearing your quiet exchange with Hajime.

Mr. Hinata followed your eyes to the back of the room, his fiery glare landing on the face of his eldest and only step-son in the shadows.

Was it too late to run back into the dressing room and never come out?

You could feel the tension in the air, a line of electricity connecting the three vampires like mental twine, ready to break at any moment. It was like watching three animals square off, sizing up their threat on a National Geographic documentary. The other Hinata coven members, all also fierce bloodsuckers in their own right, merely sat forward politely, sensing Nagito's aura but knowing better than to give him the time of day. After all, alerting the press to his presence would certainly not be a wise way to stay on Mr. Hinata’s good side.

  No one outside of the family even knew about the existence of the elder brother. He was an embarrassment, a stain on Mr. Hinata’s designer tie. In the packed room, he looked so out of place, with dark, torn clothes in a sea of try-hard collared shirts and dresses. Sure, everyone who was anyone in the media world had turned up for this interview, and would also return for the opening night the next day, but everyone who was anyone never included Nagito. He made sure of that. He just had to stick out, be different, didn’t he? Even among a bunch of immortal freaks, boy… was he a freak. 

Oh no, mommy remarried some rich man then got herself killed, better act like a little ungrateful little prick. Woe is me, I have super good luck that is sometimes super bad! No one understands me!!!

He sickened you, the way he did his best to destroy what he and Hajime’s family had built, all in the name of his backwards and twisted idea of “hope.” As if he didn't live like a prince because of the Hinatas’ hard work. Don’t get it twisted, you hated Mr. Hinata and would love to see the Hinata empire burn, but this company, the desire to be recognized and worth something, was all that held dear Hajime up. It was his only dream, and he deserved it. Nagito didn’t have a right to tear Mr. Hinata down if he had to wreck Hajime to do it.

     He disgusted you, you’d decided months back, to make it all easier on yourself. Everything he’d done, the trouble he’d caused, the hurt he’d caused so many people. Routinely, you reinforced to yourself that you hated Nagito Komaeda

   ...You were disgusted by the way you… just... couldn’t hate him. It didn’t feel right. Something felt… wrong in hating him.

  Your heart lurched, meeting his eyes again.

Why not? Why not just hate him, (Y/N)? Like everyone else…

Why was it so hard? You were supposed to be with Hajime. And Hajime hated Nagito. Everyone who knew Nagito hated Nagito. But… telling yourself you were anything but infatuated with that dangerous creature… was a lie. You owed everything, good and bad, to that feral, insane man.

Your nerves and the hairs on your arms pricked up like an agitated cat. Why why why? Why would he even do this? He knew what showing up here would start. He was born to start shit, to brew altercation, to cook up conflict. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt? Perhaps he finally came to an event to support his darling step-brother, but the way he bore his fangs when his eyes met Hajime’s said otherwise.

❘ Leave. Just Leave. You're just here to antagonize me and I won't let you be a problem. Not today. This is my day… ❘ Hajime spat mentally, and his thoughts burned through your own and, you're sure, Nagito’s.

❘ Aren’t all the days yours, Your Majesty? ❘ Nagito’s thoughts were more severe, yet more playful, taunting, careless, a venomous snarl behind every synapse pulse.

❘ ...Leave. ❘ Hajime pulsed back in warning.

❘ ....Or what? ❘ Nagito’s own ominous threat reverberated through your cranium. You pressed a hand to your temple, an angry, stinging sensation pulsating through your head. Having a vampire read one’s mind was uncomfortable enough: feeling the slight probing and perhaps needing an aspirin after, but being the third line in a purebred pissing match… it was a call you desperately wanted to hang up on. But.. humans didn’t naturally hear a vampire’s thoughts on accident. No, you were hearing this conversation because you were meant to, someone wanted you to. You had no powers of your own, but Nagito kept you trapped in this nonverbal battle, strung up betwixt two immortal minds. You brought the back of your free hand up to your nose, wiping away a stripe of red vitality that began to flow from both nostrils. The panging inside, the angry shouting in your mind only got louder.

[yan-twst]

CYOA - Twisted Wonderland

aaand here it is, finally! Chapter one of my choose your own adventure fic for twst! This is the very first chapter; it’s a bit of a slow start, establishing the plot and all, you know? As was decided by the poll, the reader is in Diasomnia (however, I’m sure y’all can probably figure out a way to worm out of the dorm quickly and meet more characters). Anyways, without further ado, here’s the fic!

You sometimes wished that your dorm wasn’t so… Gloomy. Sure, Diasomnia had some cool things; the whole “Valley of Thorns Castle” aesthetic was cool, and the fact the hallways were lit with green torches always looked cool at night, not to mention the TVs and games in the common room, but… As you tried to study for the upcoming quiz, you quietly cursed the controlled climate. Yes, you knew that rain and storms were natural in the area; but didn’t the school control the dorm’s climate with fae magic?! It was way too difficult to concentrate on your potions notes when the rain outside felt like it was lulling you to sleep as it fell against your windows.

Your roommate was snoozing in his bed- either he’d already studied, or he’d given up on the quiz. Either way, you couldn’t deny that it was alluring to just forget the damn thing and go to bed. It wasn’t that late, but you’d been going to sleep at awful hours lately, and your body sorely demanded you get some sleep. And yet, glancing down at the recipe for the minor memory erasing draught you’d have to concoct tomorrow, you knew that if you went to sleep now, you’d be dealing with Crewel’s biting critique and a terrible grade tomorrow.

A snore from your roommate broke your concentration, and you glared at the sleeping boy. Usually you and him got along just fine, but in this moment, it felt like he was testing you, as he slept sweetly and your sleep deprived self stressed over a notebook. Hearing another snore, you decided to move to the common room- maybe there you’d concentrate a bit better, and also not be tempted by the siren’s call of your bed. Picking up your phone and your notebook, you left the room, closing the door softly so as to not disturb your roommate, and made your way down the eerie halls of the dorm.

“Vice dorm leader…?” immediately, you noticed that Lilia was in the common room. After that your nose registered a smell so odd it almost made you turn around and leave. It wasn’t a bad smell, just… Incredibly odd and off putting: and you quickly pinpointed the source of it to be some charred, blackened and bizarre dish that your vice dorm leader was holding. 

“Oh? Hello there.” he said with a chuckle. You wouldn’t call Lilia a close friend by any means, but you did know him well. As a vice dorm leader, he did his best to help out the Diasomnia students, and he was also fond of pulling small pranks here and there; you’d been a victim of his tricks and also gone to him for help a couple times in your two years of being at NRC. “It’s an odd hour to be hanging out… Or could it be the smell of my cooking that brought you here?”

“Your… cooking?” so that charred thing he was holding was… food? You’d been warned- mostly by your fellow second year Silver- that Lilia was not a good cook (in fact, Silver had made it seem like his food was somehow a health hazard), but you’d imagined the usual cooking oopsies. Too much salt, not enough seasoning, maybe burning some of the food; the usual mistakes people made when cooking. However, looking at the blackened and mysterious substance in the plate he held… You wondered if perhaps Silver had been right in making Lilia’s cooking sound like some sort of biohazard.

“Indeed, I’ve been cooking some cookies. I wanted to cheer Silver, since he’s been studying hard for a quiz. And there’s nothing quite like some cookies to snack on while studying, right?” said Lilia. Cookies…? You walked closer and squinted at the plate; so those were Lilia’s cookies…? You were pretty sure you could see eggshell shards on the otherwise charcoal black pieces of what you hoped was dough. Did he… Did he not see the problem with them?

“Oh, the potions quiz for tomorrow? Yeah, I’m sure he’s been studying… I doubt Crewel is going to go easy on us.” You said with a nervous laughter, trying to divert the topic from the so-called cookies. The last thing you wanted was for him to ask you to taste test or something. A bite of those cookies would probably take you out of commission for a good week or two, and while being sick to miss class tomorrow and avoid the quiz was tempting, you really weren’t sure if it was worth it to risk some crazy horrible food poisoning for that. 

“Fufu, you’re also working quite hard, I gather? Did you come to study here?” asked Lilia, pointing to your notebook. You nodded. 

“Mhm, my roommate was being a bit loud, so…” you shrugged with a smile. You weren’t gonna throw your roommate under the bus and tell Lilia he was snoring like a train and that drove you out of the room, you were at least kind enough to omit that particular piece of info. “Well, I’m probably just going to look over the notes a bit and then go to sleep. I can only study so much to make a potion without actually being at the lab, after all.”

“Ah, Silver did mention that Crewel was making you all make a draught from memory.” Lilia hummed. “Are you having trouble with this? I can always try to help, after delivering these delicious cookies to Silver.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly bother you with this, it’s ok, vice dorm leader!” you said, quickly shaking your head. You didn’t want to waste Lilia’s time; he was a third year, after all… If your work was hard as a second year, he was probably drowning in schoolwork and studying, right? Not to mention you kind of felt like you should show more respect to him: he was an ancient fae and you were pretty sure he was a war veteran despite being in high school. 

“Oh, please call me Lilia. We’ve known each other for too long for you to be using titles, (name). I still remember the day the magic mirror sorted you into Diasomnia, right after my dear Silver was sorted.” he said with a smile, his pointy fangs catching your eye. “You’re close friends with Silver, aren’t you? I’m quite grateful you spend time with him, he’s a good boy.”

“Oh, um, well… Then I’ll call you Lilia, if that’s really ok…” you said, a bit bashful. You didn’t miss how he talked about Silver; you knew that the 2nd year did constantly refer to Lilia as ‘old man’, but you’d brushed it off to perhaps him being close enough to Lilia to use that as a nickname, but… The way Lilia spoke, it almost sounded like a father being happy his son had found a friend. “Yes, me and Silver are close. We’re in the same class, I usually give him my notes when he falls asleep in the middle of lectures. He also helps me study, sometimes.”

“Oh, you do? I must thank you, then. It’s quite kind of you.” Lilia said with a smile. “Oh! How rude of me, I haven’t offered you a cookie, have I? They’re freshly baked, you should try them. It’s the same recipe I made for Silver when he was younger.”

“Er-!” you paled. Crap, this was what you’d been fearing. The stress of the request made you not even stop to think about the odd wording of ‘making cookies for Silver ever since he was younger’ or the implication Lilia had somehow raised Silver; your brain was blaring alarms telling you to NOT put those… Things anywhere close to your face. But at the same time, Lilia was smiling so happily as he picked one of the charred objects and stuck it out in your direction.

“Lilia. You shouldn’t be giving that to humans.” a deep voice made you freeze before you accepted the cookie with a reluctant hand. You quickly turned around to spot the dorm leader entering the common room, arms crossed as he stared at Lilia. “You’re going to kill them if you make them eat that.”

“Oh, come on Malleus, don’t say that! My cookies are delicious.” Lilia sighed, taking back his baked treat and taking a bite for himself. You internally cringed at the noise of what you now absolutely knew to be chunks of eggshell and god knows what else in the object. “Don’t you see you’ll give (name) a bad impression of my cooking if you say that?”

“... It’s my duty to protect my dorm members.” said Malleus, walking closer to you and warily eyeing Lilia’s cooking. You held back a sigh of relief- yup, he’d definitely saved you. If even Malleus Draconia was scared of Lilia’s hellish cookies, you probably would have keeled over and died if you’d put that in your mouth. “Besides, it’s late. Why were you baking?”

“I was making a treat for Silver, since he was studying. This little one just happened to walk in when the cookies were ready- they’re studying for the same quiz Silver is cramming for.” said Lilia, gesturing to you. “It seems Crewel is having his fun in stressing out the first years, fufu. What potion is he making you all make?”

“Oh, um, it’s… A minor memory loss draught. It’s got a lot of steps and ingredients, and it’s way too easy to mess up, so…” you said, a bit nervous. You felt… A little bit silly now, for stressing so much over it. Right now, you were surrounded by one of the strongest mages in the world- who was also the prince of the dark fae- and an ancient and wise fae who had probably fought in great wars and aided the Valley of Thorns royalty. To them, making a weak potion was probably as easy as blinking. 

“A memory loss draught… That does indeed have many steps to its preparation, if I’m not remembering wrong.” said Malleus. His words made you relax a little- you’d half been expecting some comment like a minor memory loss draught? That’s child’s play, why are you stressing out? or something. Your dorm leader was known to be a bit haughty at times. “You look exhausted. I assume you’ve been studying a lot?”

“Wait, I look tired…? Crap, is it showing in my face?” you said, cursing internally. You had a few friends in Pomefiore and you just knew they’d be fretting over you if your eyebags and exhaustion were so evident your dorm leader, who was not too good at picking up clues, could notice.

“I’m afraid so, my dear. You look like you’re ready to drop any second now- I know you’ve got a lot of work, but perhaps you’re pushing yourself too hard.” said Lilia. You grimaced; great, now you’d somehow managed to worry the two of them. It felt… Wrong to have two powerful and important beings even express concern over your wellbeing: you were just… Some puny human who got sorted into Diasomnia, you weren’t even particularly close to either of them. Hell, you’d only spoken to Malleus a couple of times before, for fuck’s sake.

“Hmm, Malleus, could it be that you still remember how to make that potion?” said Lilia, tilting his head. The taller fae nodded, making Lilia hum in understanding. “I see, I see. Well, (name), I’m sure you’d get an amazing grade if you were to study with Malleus. He’s quite good in potionmaking when he concentrates, I promise you. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt at all for him to get closer to his own dorm members now, would it?”

“That’s-!” you visibly stiffened, looking at Malleus. Sure, you weren’t as scared of him as some of the other students were, but…! You still couldn’t just treat him all willy-nilly like some random kid; he was one of the most powerful mages in the world and crown prince from the Valley of Thorns. The mere idea of dragging him off for a study session that benefitted only you made your gut twist. Although the idea was anxiety inducing, you couldn’t help but notice a spark of… Curiosity? In Malleus’ eyes, almost as if he was entertained by the idea of it all; still, you couldn’t just accept something like that.  “I couldn’t possibly-!”

“... or you could go study with Silver. I was going to go check up on him, so you could come with me.” said Lilia, perhaps sensing your panic. 

--- time to make a choice! vote in the poll linked below to choose how to advance in the story!

poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/20971117

[vislorrturlough]

Scaramouche!

"Of course, this assumption of responsibility does not mean that we are not conditioned genetically, culturally, and socially. It means that we know ourselves to be conditioned but not determined. It means recognizing that History is time filled with possibility and not inexorably determined-that the future is problematic and not already decided, fatalistically."

- Paulo Friere

For as long as Loki can remember, tapestries have lined the walls of Asgard's palace.

When Loki was a child, the Allmother sat by his bed one night and explained the significance of the tapestries that lined the walls of their home.

“The Norns weave the tapestry that assigns our roles,” she told him. “So that we may fulfill our fate and serve Midgard as we are meant to.”

The tapestries stretched across all the walls of the palace, covering vast miles of golden wall with breathtaking imagery depicting life and death and love and hate and everything in between. They pictured Loki too, who moved from boy to tragedy to a vicious and cruel man.

“So I have a role too? And Thor?” he asked. She smiled at him with fondness. The Thor on the tapestries seemed brave and strong - Loki could never imagine his brother, still a boy himself, to become that hulk of a man someday.

“Of course, Loki,” she said. “We all have roles. I am a mother, and a magician. Thor will be a great hero. Your father, a beloved and wise king. This is what is sewn into our destiny, to be enacted until Ragnarok and again after that. In a cycle, unending and unwavering.”

He yawned, obscuring the nervousness bubbling in his chest and curling the silken covers around his shoulders. He knew what the tapestries said Loki would do. He had hoped that maybe - “What’s my fate, mother?” he asked quietly.

Her smile, previously relaxed, became firm and serious. His heart was racing, thinking of that man, and of the awful cruelty that was depicted to come at his hands. “We all have a part to play, my dear. And every story has a villain for a reason.”

--

Despite common misconception, Loki Laufeyson never lived in the moment. In fact, Loki found the moment particularly difficult to pin down. Once you begin to think “Hey, I think this is the moment!” it wasn’t the moment anymore, and Loki already had four tabs open on his phone about the relativity of time and he didn’t need anymore.

Loki lived in the future, which was why he was that very moment getting his fair share of serotonin from the Schrödinger’s Night Out with Sigurd and Lorelei he was planning. 

“Sigurd definitely won’t come out if Lorelei isn’t,” he explained to Verity as he paced hurriedly around their absurdly fancy flat, which he paid for entirely and in return, Verity didn’t ask where he got all the money. “Which means I need Lorelei to agree first. One problem with that!”

“Lorelei hates you?” Verity asked, as she planted an orange tree in Stardew Valley.

“Lorelei hates me!” Loki agreed. “Which means I need to sweeten the pot.”

Verity glanced up at him suspiciously. “How are you going to do that?”

He grinned, and picked up a pen so he could start dramatically gesticulating. “Bisexual women! They’re always fascinated with me. And by the end of the evening, I’ll have established a system where I transport their attention from me to Lorelei and get her many dates. Like a Ford factory.”

She glared, turned back to her game. “You’re a walking hate crime.”

“Was that a lie, Verity?” he teased, collapsing on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tried just barely to shrug him off. “Was it a lie when I said bi women are fascinated with me? Was it?”

Verity narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything, and in response he burst into cackles of laughter.

—

Lorelei claimed to be very insulted that Loki thought bisexual women liked him more than her, but he knew well that she knew well that she looked like the straightest girl alive and really, that was her own fault. Once Lorelei was a confirmed booking, Sigurd swiftly followed, because he’s nothing if not a simp, and thus Loki had now established the perfect evening. A pricey club, two people who could barely stand him, and himself. 

Although he never really enjoyed it. He’d never planned to.

Anticipation was a drug, really. And as previously established, the moment was very boring indeed. And this moment, Loki found himself crammed against Sigurd, who while very attractive and an owner of some very firm abs, was covered in sweat, and only slept with Loki when he was desperate anyway. Loki squinted up at him, and tried to figure out if he was desperate tonight.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sigurd shouted over the music. 

Loki smiled at him genially, and proceeded to turn quickly around and elbow his way to the smoking area.

The initial smack of fresh onto his face was divine. He closed his eyes and smiled in satisfaction, continuing to move forward. The music was more muted out here, and the sound of voices and laughter blurred into itself until nothing was anything anymore. Peace! The lights were all different shades of pink and green, and they cast an ethereal glow over the throngs of young people with cigarettes in their hands, all here, all living now.

Loki bumped into someone.

“Shit!” he yelped, watching in horror as  her cocktail spilt down her crop top. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!”

She’d flinched a bit during the incident itself, but the alcohol had seemingly tempered any stronger reaction than that. Lightly brushing at her (now soaked) top, she only laughed lightly and smiled at him. “No worries, dude!”

He pulled out his best prince charming grin (practiced in the mirror and finely tuned). “Please, let me at least buy you another drink.”

“I’m not going to say no to a drink!” she laughed shyly, and they traipsed inside to the bar. Sigurd seemed to have vanished, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Lorelei getting very close to the DJ, so maybe if Loki had any luck he was crying in the gents or something. Usual affair, really.

He bought them both mojitos, and they fought their way back through the crowd to return to the smoking area. “I like your necklace,” he said, because his mother had always said women liked having their jewelry complimented. Sif had later said that they didn’t, but Sif was as much a woman as Loki was a man, so her opinion didn’t count.

The girl giggled. “Thanks, it’s a crucifix.”

“Oh sorry!” Loki said. “I’m not from around here. That’s the catholic thing right?”

“Do you guys not have catholicism in Britain?”

Ugh, mentioning Asgard would dance a bit too close to the possibility of ‘Oh man, anyone ever told you you look like Thor’s evil brother?’. Loki chuckled instead and rolled his eyes. “I was pretty sheltered. It was like, a weird cult?”

“Oh wow! That’s so interesting.” She had a sympathetic sort of look on her face, and Loki quickly buried the irritation that bubbled up in his chest. The sympathy wasn’t for Loki anyway, just some fake man who grew up in a cult. Did he think Asgard was a cult? God, he was glad he didn’t have a therapist

“Yeah, I don’t really believe in it now, you know?” he lied easily, smiling at her. “It’s hard to have faith when it’s like, you never see any proof.”

She nodded understandingly. “Yeah, lots of people say that nowadays, what with superheroes and Asgard and all. I don’t know, I kind of think the fact I don’t have proof makes it more important.”

“Oh yes?” Loki asked. “What do you mean by that?”

She looked up at the lights, placed her free hand on the crook of the elbow of the hand holding her drink. For a second, Loki saw ancient and revered philosophers! He decided that they’d had it all wrong. Screw the forums, they should’ve done all their philosophising in smoking areas.

“It means something, you know?” she explained slowly. “Like, of course we believe in the ground and the sky and all. Those are right in front of us, we can’t deny that. Same with science, or aliens, or Asgardians. But believing in God requires a certain kind of faith. I’m going beyond seeing and believing. I’m just believing. God has a plan for me, and I believe in that.”

Loki nodded slowly. A fate? One set, but controlled by a benevolent creature and entirely unknown? It wasn’t true or real of course, but there was a beauty to it, that Loki, who’s path was clear and determined, appreciated. The alcohol (he and Lorelei made a habit of spiking drinks they bought on earth with Asgardian liqueur, so they’d, you know, work) was beginning to blur his awareness anyway. “That’s beautiful,” he said kindly.

She giggled, quickly touching her necklace and looking at the ground. “Haha, sorry! I study theology, it’s kind of a thing.”

“No, no!” Loki laughed, giving her a wide grin. “It was very interesting! Where do you study?”

They got into a long conversation about Sarah’s (her name, Loki found out eventually) degree, NYU dorms and a guy she hated in her seminars, before he noticed Lorelei making a beeline towards him, her hand around Sigurd’s wrist. 

“Hey,” she said, before frowning at him and glancing at Sarah. “I’m going home with a girl named Angelica. She’s goth and plays bass. So you need to take Sig home.”

“I’m literally an ancient hero. Of legend,” Sigurd interjected.

Lorelei turned and glared at him instead. “Well, you need to take Loki home.”

“Oh well, come on then Sig!” Loki said loudly, ignoring his scowl. “Thank you for such a lovely conversation, Sarah darling. Have a nice night!”

“Thanks Luke!” she laughed, not being not obvious about checking Sigurd out. Oh God, she probably thought he was dating Loki. Yuck, how mortifying. “See you around!”

“Go get a taxi,” Lorelei told him, before wandering off to a girl with a septum piercing and docs, which Loki considered quite basic, especially for Lorelei.

They didn’t get a taxi. They walked five minutes until Loki ducked around a corner, ignored Sigurd saying “Aren’t we getting a taxi?” and grabbed his arm before dragging him through the spaces in between the universe and dropping him on the bean bag in his living room. A solitary pringles can rolled quietly and hit Loki’s foot.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” Loki muttered, kicking it away.

“I hate you,” Sigurd growled, pinching his nose and clearly trying not to throw up. Loki didn’t know why, it wouldn’t be any major downgrade from how the room was currently. “And I hate that. You’re such a fucking prick Loki.” 

Time to make his exit before Sigurd regained enough strength to cause him bodily harm. “Bye honey!” he trilled, and Sigurd’s growl was cut off as he made his way to his own apartment. He didn’t wake up Verity, she had work tomorrow, so he just kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, surrendering to unconsciousness.

--

Verity and Loki had moved in together for two reasons. 

1) Loki spent most of his time at Verity’s. He had a separate shelf in her fridge for his energy drinks and his salsa, and a special place at the bottom of her spice cupboard for his snacks. He told Verity she had full ownership over all the snacks and could have them when he’d left, but she never did. Instead she got the little clip things she used and pinched the bags closed carefully, putting them to the side for the next time he came over. It was thoughtful, and Loki didn’t know what to do with it, so he never mentioned it. He got bored quite easily anyway, and most of his ‘friends’ had a very limited tolerance of him, so most days he found himself on Verity’s couch, playing Uno and eating Oreos.

2) Verity’s flat was bad and small and Loki’s was perfect and expensive, and if he spent all his time with Verity, they may as well hang out in his sketchily acquired penthouse. Plus, paying her rent made him feel useful. It was like a payment for all the little clips on his packets of Doritos.

He didn’t regret it. Except he thought that perhaps he might be as close as he could get to regretting it as he lay in bed listening to her pounding viciously at his door. 

“Are you alive?” she yelled through the mahogany. He groaned just loudly enough to be heard, and she banged one more time for good measure before her footsteps quickly petered off towards the kitchen.

He sighed in frustration, rolling off his bed with just enough basic athletic ability to land on his feet. His vision blacked out for just a second, and his head very much rejected the idea of being on his feet. Had he shifted through space while drunk? That was so dangerous. He should have gotten like, a driving ticket. A magic driving ticket.

He stumbled into the kitchen and stared blearily at Verity. “What are you cooking?” he mumbled.

“Eggs,” she replied without turning. “Want some?”

“Hmm.” He stares at the clock. One in the afternoon? That wasn’t too bad. Verity must have just gotten in from work though, which made him feel bad. Oh, how he missed the days when he had no shame and also no friends. “No thanks, I don’t want to throw up.”

“I thought alcohol didn’t affect you?”

“Human alcohol doesn’t.” He sat down on one of the tall swivel chairs at their counter and spun around. Ow, oh fuck, that wasn’t a good idea. He grimaced and placed his pounding head in his hands. “Lorelei and I spiked our drinks with something we got from Asgard.”

“Huh.” Verity sat opposite him, eggs piled onto the plate she set down in front of her. She’d cooked the yokes, the heathen. “Did you have a good time?”

Loki stared at her. “I feel like I’m being interrogated by my mother.”

“Oh honey,” she teased, grinning through a mouthful of eggs. “Oh sweetie. Wear protection!”

Loki dramatically re-enacted retching, and she choked on her eggs. A just punishment for her crimes, he thought.

“Ew,” he moaned. “I had to see Sigurd’s flat last night. It was disgusting.”

“I wasn’t being serious?” she stared at him. “I didn’t know you actually slept with-”

“Ew, ew, no,” he interrupted. “I was just detailing how he’s far too disgusting to ever consider as a sexual object. I would probably sleep with Lorelei though.”

“As if she’d sleep with you.”

“I’m forever alone!” he cried “Like the meme!”

“If you think referencing memes from 2008 is going to help you get laid-” she got up, pulled the dishwasher open and put her plate in without washing it off. Awful dishwasher etiquette, and Loki was from a place where they washed dishes with magic, so she had no excuse. “-then I think you might be beyond help.”

“I’m waiting for the right person,” he mumbled, squinting in the light streaming in from their egregiously large windows. “Like America. I ship America and myself.”

“America’s a lesbian,” Verity said.

“I’m a woman sometimes!” He got up and opened the fridge. “It’d be perfectly possible if she could tolerate me.”

“Which she can’t.”

“Yeah,” Loki said in faux-disappointment. “Ergo, forever alone, I’m mister lonely, involuntarily celibate, and sent to the friendzone.”

He shut the fridge, no bacon in sight, and stared at the front of it trying to consider his next move. He could head down to the store, but also he couldn’t, because he couldn’t imagine bringing himself to put on something other than the shorts he was currently in that said ‘BAD WITCH’ in bright green, metallic lettering on the back (a gift from Kate) and also he was pretty certain a drink had been poured on him the night before, judging by the smell of lager and the way his fringe had congealed into a hard point overnight. He wasn’t in any fit state to walk down the street. He had standards to maintain.

Yes, he was an illusionist, but he was a hungover illusionist with a headache, thus he opened up DoorDash and ordered McDonald’s. 

“Vee?” he called down the hall. “Do you want anything from McDonald’s?” 

“Ew,” she called back. “No.”

He placed his order and looked back up at the fridge. They had a shared calendar printed out on that kind of slippy photo paper so they could use whiteboard markers on it and make sure to not double book having people over. Last time it had happened, Verity’s cousin had to top-and-tail with Thor on the couch, which was a weird experience for everyone, but mostly for Daniel. Currently, the calendar was pretty sparse, since it was early April, but Verity had written something in for Sunday. ‘Easter - Mom’s House’.

He stared at it, confused. He didn’t turn when he heard Verity’s feet pattering back into the kitchen. “Hey, I didn’t know you were religious.”

“Huh?” Verity had flopped onto the couch and was fiddling with the remote control, probably trying to turn on Dr Phil. “Not really, what do you mean?”

“You’re going to your Mum’s for Easter?”

“Oh I guess.” The Judge Judy theme song streamed from the TV. Loki stood corrected. “I don’t believe in it or anything. It’s just tradition.”

“Huh.” He glanced out onto the street. It was lively. They were in pretty central Manhattan, and usually when you looked onto the road it was hard to see a part of the path that wasn’t covered in black throngs of city goers. He sometimes wondered where they were going, had they plans, or were they just wandering, aimless and free? Loki had always thought it would be night to wander off and see where his feet would take him if he didn’t walk with direction or intention. “Had an interesting conversation last night.”

“Yeah?” Verity responded mindlessly, staring at the TV. 

“About religion. With a girl in the smoking area.”

“Dude.” Verity leaned over, effortlessly butch. “Conversations about religion in a smoking area? I’m putting my foot down. Either you download Grindr or find a therapist.”

“Both of those options are severely limited by the fact that I am a divine being and a world renowned criminal,” he replied. “Do you think guys on Grindr are into my evil vibes, actually?”

“Guys on Grindr are definitely into your evil vibes.”

“Thanks Verity,” he said, turning and heading towards the door. “You always have my back. Maybe I’ll find a bae after all.”

He grinned at her sounds of indignation and headed to his room to sleep his headache away.

--

Loki had always been rather a superior child. He had no need for childish matters of ‘bravery’ and ‘heroics’, instead favouring his intellect and insight. His mother said he was a bright young man, thank you. So he cared little about Thor informing him he was too small and weak to spar with him and his friends. However, he had in return let Thor know that he would be instead spending some time with his very close friends, who Thor did not have an acquaintance with and who thought Loki was very cool and interesting indeed. Thus, appearances had to be upheld.

He peered around the corner of the great, awning entrance to the Bifröst control room. Lord Heimdall had his back turned, but Loki was not a fool. A child, but not a fool.

“Your Highness,” the Watcher called out, turning to face him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He inched forward, the tips of his fingers trailing the chilly gold-plated walls of the gate. “I was bored,” he lied.

“Very well.” Heimdall set down the Key and sat heavily down onto its platform. “Would you be able to keep me company during my break?”

Loki lifted his chin, glanced around himself and headed to sit beside him. “I suppose I can grace you with my presence, for some time at least.”

“Have you a full schedule, your Highness?”

Anger and indignation built in his chest. Loki whipped around and scowled at him. “I’m very busy.”

Heimdall’s playful expression sunk with practiced ease into something serious. “My apologies. Of course you are, my prince.”

Loki crossed his arms. He knew that Lord Heimdall knew all his business, all of everyone’s business, but it struck him like a spear to his chest to have been mocked over his… lack of desirability. How dare he? Loki may be a boy, but he was his prince. It was not Heimdall’s place to mock him. 

He struggled to think of something dignified to reply, and the pressure of the silence between them built into a garotte that tightened around his neck. He daren’t look at Heimdall, imagining a mocking grin staring down at him. It was unlikely, and would be utterly out of place on the man’s face, but Loki would rather avoid the possibility altogether.

“How is your brother, your Highness?” Heimdall said to break the silence.

In a fit of rage, Loki slammed his palm against the platform. His eyes watered with the pain of it. “Why does everyone only care about what Thor is doing? How Thor is? I am not a vessel through which people may be updated about my brother’s status!”

In his anger he’d turned to glare at Heimdall, and was horrified to find the man’s face transformed by pity. Loki scowled in disgust, and stared at the wall in the opposite direction.

“I did not mean to imply anything as such, your Highness,” Heimdall explained carefully. “I merely asked out of having nothing else very interesting to say. Perhaps I should have asked how you are?”

Loki hesitated, glanced back up. “I’m well,” he mumbled shortly.

“That’s good to hear,” Heimdall replied, staring ahead, out the gates and down the Bifröst. Loki wondered if he saw that which lay in front of him with more clarity, or if what his tangible eyes caught was nothing different to everything else he saw. “Is there anything in particular you would like to speak about?”

Loki was silent for a moment. A topic had been weighing on his mind, one he hesitated to bring to his mother. A heavy topic indeed. “Heimdall?” he asked. “Why am I destined to be a monster?”

It had been a burden to bear, acknowledging what was written upon the tapestries spun deep in Nornheim. When mother had first told him of his destiny years ago, it had seemed like a childhood game, but everyday the gravity of his situation held him just a little firmer to the ground. All has its place, his mother had told him, and your place is important. It is against you that others will shine.

It coloured everything he did, and how others treated him. Thor still loved him as a brother, but everyday his pride in his own journey grew and Loki could only stand and watch as he looked on his brother with a little more suspicion, held him at a slightly further distance. Loki’s cruelty had been encouraged, not in a direct way, but in the ways in which his parents and carers were cruel towards him. Like a knife being sharpened. 

Heimdall did not move. “Everything has its duty. Our world is not much but an elaborate play, and we act according to our roles so that the other realms may live in our image.”

“But why me?” Loki pressed. “Why can’t I be the hero?”

Neither mentioned what lay between them. A man and a child and a destiny for two corpses, having slain one another, to lie in the middle of their world as it burned.

“I’m sorry, my prince,” Heimdall said quietly. “Perhaps take some relief in the fact that you needn’t worry over who you will be. The Midgardians in particular struggle with virtue.”

“Really?” Loki muttered, head in his hands. “Isn’t it very freeing for them?”

“Not as such,” he replied. “In return for their agency, they are burdened with the duty to be ever kind and charitable to one another, or be damned for their failure to do so. It's simpler for us. Our fate is predetermined, and while you may be the villain, you are doing your duty as such and can rest easy knowing that it is a moral and just thing for you to be.”

Loki was silent for a second, staring morosely ahead. “But I don’t want to be the villain.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Loki,” Heimdall replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But the tapestries have already been spun.”

--

The Allmothers, in their omnipowetful ability to be incredibly annoying, always called him when he was in the middle of doing things. In this case, a lovely girl named Amelia who had told him he looked like Timotheé Chalamet.

She screamed, causing Loki to whip around with a curse only to find Gaia staring at him through his mirror, disgust on her face and her right eye covered by Loki’s Blondie postcard that Verity had bought him from some emo shop.

Gritting his teeth, he looked down at Amelia, who seemed to be sinking into some form of shock. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m so fucking sorry. Uh, I kind of have to take this. Another time maybe?”

She looked up at him in speechless horror before turning quickly and climbing out from under him. Before he could even look up at her he heard the slam of the door. He glanced up. Huh, at least she’d taken her shirt with her. Loki was a feminist after all.

With a sigh, he turned to face Gaia. “My Lady!” He greeted with gritted teeth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She held his gaze for a few awkward seconds.

“Okay,” he said. “I would say, if anything it’s your fault that you decided to just turn up in my mirror without any prior warning. Really? You can’t expect me to be celibate. I’m Loki.”

She graced him with a performatively regal sigh and a significantly less regal eye roll. “The Allmothers have a task for you to complete, Loki.”

“Don’t you always?” He grumbled, pulling a hoodie on to cover up some of his nudity. Amelia may have only lost a shirt, but Loki was already down to his boxers. He was a feminist, after all.

“There is a great treasure in the belonging of one of our own, one who dwells in the realm of Midgard.”

“In English?” 

The Allmother paused. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Your first language is the tongue of Jötunheim.”

“It’s just a-, it’s just a phrase, okay? Anyway, can you get to the crux of it? I was busy.”

“You aren’t busy anymore.”

He threw his arms out dramatically, making sure his irritation was painted clear on his face. “Thanks for that, by the way!”

“We would like-,” she continued, gathering her composure. “-for you to retrieve the ancient sword, Gram. It’s power is too great for us to allow it to remain out of our grasp. We have waited too long already, and time is of the essence.”

“Gram?” Loki asked. “You mean Sigurd’s sword?”

“The legendary sword Gram does indeed lie in the hands of the hero Sigurd-”

“But Sig loves his sword,” he interrupted. “He’s going to hate me if I take it for you. That’s narc behaviour.”

“This is your duty, Prince Loki, to your people,” Gaia said sternly. “You are, and have always been, a narc.”

“Hey, fuck you-”

She was gone in the next second, and Loki was left staring at his face in the mirror, and the way the skin underneath his eyes was grey and sunken, which made his eyes pop in a sort of consumption-chic. He looked a bit like Maleficent, he thought in an attempt to distract himself from the dread of the task that now lay before him and the inevitable broken friendship (he didn’t have many to break left).

But without all the milf energy. Loki didn’t have any milf energy, which was probably the source of most of his problems

--

Often, Loki found the easiest way to avoid all of his issues was to pretend he was a funny, quirky little guy living a funny, quirky little life. Oh Loki, he’s the token evil teammate, the funny comic relief in stories about other people, relegated to side character (but hot enough that all the fan art and fic was going to centre him). This allowed him to get away with his faults, which were many and numerous, by playing them off as the work of that darned scamp, Loki. This situation however, was one that worried Loki, as Sigurd was nothing if he wasn’t two things; 1) absolutely unenamoured by Loki and everything Loki had going for himself, and 2) in love with that fucking sword.

Loki sat down cross-legged on his bed and contemplated the choices he could make here. He could take the sword, and try to manipulate the situation to make Sigurd look like he was overreacting. Take the sword to the flat and mess around while he showed it to Verity. But, he knew, Verity wouldn’t play along, because her moral compass was ever on the straight and narrow and anyway, she’d know he was lying. 

Lorelei would side with Sigurd over him, because she didn’t trust the Asgardian establishment and they all knew that the tentative little bit of control that let them languish in something resembling a real life on Midgard rested on Sigurd having enough power that Asgardia would rather leave him alone than bother. Losing Gram would put that in jeopardy, and Lorelei wouldn’t trade a shoelace for Loki, nevermind her happy ending. He knew well enough that this theft would be unjust, would put all of the power into the hands of the already powerful. He knew this, and he knew that Sig and Lorelei? Wouldn’t hurt a fly, really. For all the three of them pretended to hate each other, Loki knew they were good people, and they just wanted to live their lives in peace.

He could simply refuse. Not take the sword, let the Allmothers deal with it some other way. He could say it was above his pay grade, which it was.

Except, he couldn’t. Not really. He had duties that Sigurd and Lorelei couldn’t possibly understand. That idea couldn’t push its way forward from the back of his mind, as if constrained by something, writhing back and forth to break free. Or was it? Or was that an excuse, a claim to someone that he was trying, still, to do the right thing, and that it wasn’t his fault when he failed to.

He sighed, and stood up. His wardrobe was a mess, but it was an organised mess, and anyway it was a bright, sunny day outside and he could find his dragon scale armour easily from the way it glinted in the light at the back of his slogan t-shirts. 

--

Sig had moved all the dirty washing from his desk chair. Loki didn’t have high hopes that it was for any reason other than playing PC games though. Sig was really into, like, Call of Duty and Halo. Were they PC? Loki didn’t know. He preferred superior gaming experiences, like Professor Layton.

Lo and behold, Loki found the mysteriously disappeared dirty clothing on Sig’s couch. For a guy whose feats and adventures were written down in legend, he really had some drab taste in furnishings.

Loki moved silently through the flat, letting just a little bit of his seidr seep into his steps to cushion the noise. He didn’t turn on any lights, instead relying on a little bit of patience to let his eyes adjust to the dark. His Jotunn heritage, dare he say it, came in handy at times like this due to the Jotnär having pretty decent night vision. This was in order to do crimes and eat children, his nursemaid had informed him when he was small. Well, Loki was doing crimes, but the jury was out on the eating children bit.

Loki was an expert catburglar, tales of his stealthiness were scribbled on the walls of ancient Midgardian caves, the remnants of long extinct societies, all of which he had outlived. Thus, he cleverly noticed the Guitar Hero™ plastic guitar and stepped over it.

Loki knew one thing about Sigurd. He was paranoid. Thus, Loki had a suspicion about where he would put Gram, and if he was correct he knew this job wouldn’t be easy.

He eased open the bedroom door, and watched as the hero of the stories he had been told as a babe snored while laying on his front. Huh, great ass.

Loki mentally smacked himself. Bad!

His attention was then quickly snatched by the gleaming sword that lay against the left bedpost. Ding ding, we have a winner! Sigurd both expected his sword to be stolen and expected to have to fight off home invaders, and so he kept his greatest asset (other than his ass) right next to him in his most vulnerable times. Loki was his worst nightmare, well usually, but even more so at this moment.

He crept forward, stepping carefully over strewn clothes. Wait, was that Lorelei’s blouse? Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that. He’d much rather they remain entirely celibate in his mind.

Loki crept closer, and reached out to grasp the hilt of the sword silently.

“...What the fuck? Loki?”

He should have run, probably. Teleported, gone invisible, maybe should have even jumped through the window. That might have thrown Sigurd off the scent right? Prince Loki, God of Trickery and Harbinger of Ragnarök wouldn’t have just leapt through a window. Well, the window was seventeen floors up actually, so maybe a regular burglar wouldn’t have either.

Anyway, what happened was he stood stock still, unable to move a muscle or turn to face Sigurd, as if he were labouring under the delusion that Sigurd was a creature that tracked prey by movement. He looked like something out of Looney Tunes, which wasn’t fantastic for his dignity.

“Loki,” Sigurd snapped again.

He turned, and winced at the look of outrage on his friend’s face. Sigurd was sat up on his elbow, his other arm on his comforter. He looked like he was ready to attack someone. Loki was pretty sure he hadn’t expected it to be - well, Loki.

“What the fuck were you doing?” he said. “Were you stealing Gram? Why? For who?”

Ouch, that hurt. He may have been stealing it for someone else, but it was a bit upsetting that Sigurd had immediately disregarded the idea he was working in his own interest.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. “The Allmothers send their regards,” he finally admitted drily.

If anything, Sigurd’s outrage grew. “How- How could you?”

A bit dramatic, Loki thought. Sigurd leapt out of his bed, and Loki didn’t have the chance to step back before his shoulders were in Sigurd’s bruising grip and his back pushed hard against the wall. “You know what this means,” Sigurd said, his disgust evident. “You aren’t stupid, Loki. You know what you’re doing.”

Oh, that was it, wasn’t it? Loki wasn’t evil because he did evil things. He was evil because he knew they were wrong before he did them, and he did them anyway.

“I have to,” he mumbled weakly. Was that a lie? Verity would know. “I have no choice.”

“Yes you do,” Sigurd said, releasing his grip and stepping back, “Yes you do, you’re just too much of a coward to admit it. You’re so desperate to play happy families. I can see it in you, and so can Lorelei. All you want is to be useful to people, even if it’s for the Allmothers, who treat you like shit. You do their fucking dirty work and they kick you around and you love it, because you get to be part of their rotten little story.”

Loki stared at him, suddenly feeling utterly, entirely tired beyond belief. Sigurd could not tell him anything that he did not tell himself.

“You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward who does everything the Allmothers ask of you. One moment you sneer at them up there, in Asgard, and pretend that you and me and Lorelei are all in the same boat, but the next moment you bare your neck to them. One day they’re going to ask you to hurt someone you really care about, and you know what? You’ll do it. They’ll ask you to hurt Thor, or Verity, and you’ll do it without a second thought because you’re a coward, Loki, and you always will be.”

His breath caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t hurt Verity.”

“Yes, you would. If someone put it on a tapestry you’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.”

“I see, well,” he paused, looked to his right to avoid Sigurd’s gaze. “I’ll let you get back to sleep I suppose.”

Sigurd reached out to grab him, but he was gone before he had a chance.

—

Received FRI 2:08

Verity: hey u coming back tonight or what

Verity: im assuming ur working

Verity: if u are there’s leftover pasta bake in the fridge. Ik you hate leftovers but its on offer. Im off to bed, night!

Received FRI 11:02

Verity: hey called lorelei to check in on you and she says you and sig aren’t talking. She didnt seem thrilled w you either. U ok? 

Verity: call me if you get the chance ok

Received MON 15:47

Verity: yh ok this is cringe but please call. Im worried

Verity: you usually lmk when youre gone this long and sig was being suspicious

Verity: i asked him if hed seen you and he like laughed

Verity: idk maybe hed be more concerned if something had happened but u guys dont exactly have a normal expectation for health and safety in the workplace

Received WED 23:21

Verity: please call i’m worried

Verity: please

Received THU 18:54

Verity: you’re a fucking idiot

Verity: I hate you

Received THU 19:02

Verity: i didn’t mean that

Verity: sorry.

Verity: please do call. please

--

Verity wasn’t the only one texting him, which would have done wonders for his ego if it had been anywhere near still intact, but she was the only one who’s texts he kept re reading, scanning them obsessively and trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

The thing that nagged him though, was how would he know what the right thing was?

All his life, the right thing was whatever was in stride with where he was determined to end up. The path had been laid out for him - all he had to do was walk it. But, though the Norns had written out his beginning, his end, his great misdeeds and stories, they hadn’t written about things like whether he should get KFC or not, whether he’d be good at Mario Party or what dog breed was his favourite (alsatian). They had never had the name Verity Lewis brush their lips.

Because this world was untethered. It simply wasn’t important enough for the Norns to have seen. Did that mean that they were free, here? Was that bad or good? To Loki, who despite everything had spent an eternity comfortable in the knowledge that he knew what would happen, and that the future was clear to him as long as he could stand in the halls he’d grown up in and stare at the tapestries on the walls, the idea of absolute undetermined fate was deeply terrifying. It caught in his throat, wrapped around his heart, squeezed the warmth out of his chest. 

But Sigurd was right, and so he had a decision to make.

There were people walking around under him, where he sat perched on the roof of a Soviet era apartment building in Brno. They didn’t know what would happen to them, how many kids they’d have, whether they’d marry or how they’d die. They didn’t know any of that, and that meant they could decide.

Huh.

--

He stumbled when he flashed in, and his hand reached out steady himself against the wall. The lights were off, but after a couple of seconds he heard a slight clutter from Verity’s room. Taking a deep breath he made his way to the kitchen and sat down at the bar. He didn’t bother to switch the light on, instead just collapsed into the chair and placed his head in his hands.

The lights switched on. “Loki?”

He peeked at her from between his fingers. Verity stared at him as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to be angry or happy. She was squinting (she wasn’t wearing glasses - she must have been asleep). He must have looked suitably miserable because instead of launching into a tirade she narrowed her eyes and slowly moved to sit opposite him, as if trying to tame some vicious creature. Apt, perhaps.

Their silence hung very heavily. “I’m sorry,” Loki eventually said, mortified to hear a crack in his voice from disuse.

She watched him carefully. “I forgive you,” she replied. Not ‘it’s okay’, because Verity found lying, even unconsciously, very difficult. “Can you tell me what’s up?”

By ‘can’, Loki knew that Verity was asking as if this was something related to his work for the Allmothers, but he found that even though this wasn’t any secret mission detail he was forbidden from sharing, he still found it hard to describe.

“I mean,” he muttered, breaking away from her stare. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Wherever you want to?”

He swallowed. “I had to steal something from Sigurd. Gram-” She opened her mouth and he jerked his shoulders defensively. “Please let me just explain. The Allmothers asked me too. I knew that if I did it it would put Sig and Lorelei’s relative safety at a significant risk. But,” he paused, bit his lip, horrified by the lump in his throat. “Even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do, and that all of you, all of my friends, would think less of me because of it, I had to do it. I had to do it because if I don’t do things that are wrong, that are bad, I am not filling the role that I am set out to fill, that I have always been set out to fill.

“There are tapestries, in Asgard,” he explained, a wobble entering his tone. “They’ve been there since before me, before my parents, before anyone. They were woven by the Norns, who see all of the past, the present and the future. They were woven so that we, who will be images of all the people of the Nine Realms and who will serve as a reflection of their large and varied communion, could know where we fit and what roles we are to play. And I’m a villain, Verity. I am the bad guy, because someone has got to be. There are people who actively choose to be bad and evil and selfish all over the shop, and someone has to represent them in the grand scheme of things. And, mainly, I have to keep everyone’s hands clean by making mine dirty.”

Her hands reached steadily out, grabbed one of his and held it between them. They were tears threatening to fall now, and they choked up his voice.

“So I do what the Allmothers ask me to, and I antagonise Thor, and I play my part as the bad guy of the story so that one day that story may be told to children as they are tucked into bed, so that they know that immorality causes you nothing but strife. I am supposed to have that strife, and through this my immorality is good and right, because I am an example.”

He paused. “Sigurd said I would hurt you, if they asked me to.”

“Would you?” she asked.

A second passed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d rather not risk it, but I thought you at least deserved an explanation for my sudden disappearance.”

She leaned back then, stared out their windows and onto the road beneath them, still busy despite the hour. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Dare I ask?” he chuckled wetly.

Her voice was firm. “I think that’s bullshit. I know you’re telling the truth, that you might hurt me if your Moms asked you. But I think you don’t know that that’s not true, which is why it’s registering as right to me.”

He squinted at her in confusion.

“You believe it,” she explained. “Which is why it’s registering as true to me. But that doesn’t mean you would, it just means you don’t think you’re a good person, and that’s not news.

“You see yourself as some kind of cut-out character with one trait, a yin to Thor’s yang or some shit, but you only think that’s all real because people have told you it is. Who’s to say those tapestries are anything? I think that you - all of you Asgardians - are terrified of being unmoored, so you make up shit like this so that you don’t have to grapple with morality.”

He tried to interrupt, but Verity continued. “You’re all terrified of life, so you pretend it’s one big play you’re putting on for our benefit, with roles and lines so that you needn’t make ‘em up. But you know what? Why don’t you just try? Try to improvise. Break away from it all. Maybe those tapestries do mean something, but maybe they just come true because you all keep doing what they say.

“You’re not the bad guy in a play, Loki,” she told him, her voice full of emotion and her hand rubbing his. It was just enough to keep him tethered to reality, he thought. “You’re my friend. You’re funny, and flippant. You don’t like to talk about your emotions. You don’t have great self-esteem and you kick ass at Jenga. You’re playing a part, but you know the thing about actors? They have lives when they get off the stage, and you could too.”

--

His boots echoed across the ground as he climbed the short hill to his destination. It was dust, not dirt, that he trod on, and the air was stale and cloyed in his lungs. It was the kind of air that felt like it didn’t blow, but just hung in the air for eternity, older than you by indescribable amounts.

No one went here. It was unplottable by some working laid down long before even the beginning of Asgardian history. It had taken Loki four days to crack, because 1) he’d spent all of his non-eating, non-sleeping time in the last couple of days focused on it, 2) he’d already made a groundwork as a teenager before his mother had told him off for meddling in things he shouldn’t have been and 3) he was pretty fucking good. Really, the only reason he hadn’t touched it before was because as he became a man, he grew to respect the Norns. Things had changed.

“Hello!” he called, not surprised to find the three women staring at him, likely well aware of his arrival for at least eternity, or something.

“Liesmith,” Lady Verdandi spoke in a low, powerful voice. “You have come to rattle the chains that you feel resting upon your shoulders.”

“Yep,” he responded, popping the ‘p’.

“These chains,” Skuld said in a tight voice. “Are imaginary.”

“No actually,” he said, beginning to pace around the room. “You see, I don’t really care if they’re ‘imaginary’ or whatever. I actually am just here to let you know that I’m just going to be kind of doing my own thing from now on.”

“Your ‘own thing’?” Urd sneered. “ You do not have your ‘own thing’. The fate we have laid out for you is everything you are.”

“Everything I am is just a mask.  A mask that you put on me!”

“Oh? That implies something on which a mask can be put. Is there anything under your mask, Loki? Do you even know?”

“Well, I guess I’m going to find out,” he ground out. They were sat down, staring up at him, and he felt unnervingly like he was still a child who had been summoned to his father’s study to receive an admonishment for troublemaking.

“You will find out,” Verdandi explained calmly. “That you are mistaken, and that you will play your part in the fate that will become and will end and will begin again, whether you try to fight against it or not.”

“So that’s it then?” Loki said softly, although his voice still echoed across the ancient walls that enclosed him. “There’s no path to grace for me. I’m your villainous fool, cast in this grand play so that your heroes may show their virtue in my vanquishment. I’m good when I’m bad, and I’m bad when I’m good.”

He paused, and stared her down.

“Well, I’m afraid I’d rather be bad on my own terms, actually.”

Verdandi had opened her mouth to say something else, probably something even more patronising, but before she had the chance Loki had stepped between reality and left Nornheim and its frigid, stale air behind him.

--

“Saw you coming,” the Watcher said when Loki stepped out in front of him. 

Loki smiled. “Naturally,”

Heimdall sat tiredly on the Bifröst’s lock. Loki noticed with a sort of jolt that Heimdall was getting old. Maybe they all were. “What is it you would like from me, my prince?” 

“Oh nothing really,” he answered. “I just thought I should let someone know that I will be unable to complete the most recent mission that the Allmothers have given me. In fact, perhaps you could let them know that I’m putting in my two week’s notice, so to speak? Although I’m not really giving them any notice, let alone two weeks.”

“Oh? Might I ask what has brought this on, your highness?”

Loki crossed his arms. “I’m trying this new thing called ‘making your own destiny’. All the cool kids are doing it.”

Heimdall nodded. He wouldn’t have been able to have viewed Loki’s conversation with the Norns, but he would have seen what Verity had said. “I wish you luck, dear child,” he said softly.

Loki’s smile turned quiet and genuine for just a moment, before he turned away and took a few steps. Wait! He had something else to mention.

He looked back at Heimdall.

“By the way, maybe I am going to kill you someday,” he said. “”But I promise that I’m going to try my damndest not to.”

With that, he stepped back into New York, and headed towards Dominoes to pick up their pizza. They were doing movie night, he and Verity. They were going to watch Legally Blonde. Loki thought about - What was her name? Susie? Sarah? He thought maybe she was right, in the end. Maybe it was a gift to believe in what can’t be seen, and thus a gift to follow darkened paths. But the path that brought him home felt warm and reliable, just like it always did.

[blueluneacy]

Confessions

AAAAAAAAND WE DID IT BOYS! Yes, I am posting this late. no, I do not care. it’s the TA!Jotaro/reader first place fic!

Word Count: 4k

Also on AO3!

Warnings: not sfw, slight manhandling, bratty ass reader, slight dubcon if you squint, cumming inside

Maybe this wasn't the best outfit to wear to lecture. It really did fit rather tightly around your ass, and god, if you lifted your arms, half of your torso showed. It really didn’t leave anything to the imagination, but who cared? I mean, maybe, but also, you didn’t care much. I mean, what was the worst that could happen, right? Your TA stares at you the entire class? Newsflash, he does that anyway. It was so obvious that Jotaro Kujo had a thing for you, and it honestly boosted your self confidence at least tenfold. He was attractive, strong, and smart. Anyone attracted to men would want to be with a guy like that, but he kept to himself mostly. If you weren’t more perceptive, or maybe if he wasn’t so weird about it all, then you probably wouldn’t have noticed in the first place. But the way his eyes seemed to keep on you for a moment too long, the way he lingered by your desk for just a moment longer than everyone else, the way he almost seemed to freeze up when he heard your voice, it was all too obvious. 

But then, why didn’t Kujo admit it? You were constantly dropping hints at this point that you were interested, often loudly talking about how you were single and looking for a partner while you knew Jotaro was in earshot, but he wouldn’t bite. Not that you were interested in him or anything… Well, that’s a lie. You totally were interested in him, but Jotaro was interested  in you first, so he had to be the one to admit that he liked you. Those were the rules. Totally.

But, alas, you didn’t have much time to really consider the pros and cons of your outfit. You only had Kujo’s discussion today, thank god. It should be a crime to have class on Friday anyway, not to mention that it was at ten in the morning. It should be illegal to have a class this early. Yes, you were at this point nocturnal, but you were also in college. You don’t exist before noon. So naturally, you were up getting ready for your class way later than when you told yourself at three AM last night, and you kind of had to get a move on.  You already had forfeited a real breakfast, stuffing bagels into your backpack and eating them during your discussion would have to do. 

So you headed off on the uneventful walk to your class. Thank god it wasn’t on the other side of campus, otherwise you probably wouldn’t have come for most of the semester. It was always such a hassle to get all the way over there, you didn’t want to deal with it. You couldn’t remember if you actually checked where this class was when you signed up for it, so you couldn’t be certain if this was some sort of foresight on your sight, or just plain luck. Either way, you got to the classroom pretty quickly, sitting down exactly 2 minutes before class was supposed to actually start. You snagged a seat towards the back so you could eat your bagels in peace, but still seem like you were totally paying attention. Jotaro’s eyes on you didn’t go unnoticed, but you couldn’t care to comment on them now, too invested in the idea of food as you pulled out your notebook to take notes on whatever was going to be rambled on about. Jotaro stayed on topic with your chapter, but he seemed to have preferences in what he was talking about. You could tell that what he enjoyed talking about and what he didn’t, because it just showed in the way his tone changed based on the topic. But today… Well, you weren’t paying so much attention to what Jotaro was saying, as the tone of his voice. His voice seemed lower than usual, with a strange gravelly quality to it. Was he sick? I mean, his eyes were on you, they tended to be, but they seemed so much more glued onto you than they were before. You took a bite of your bagel, not even remembering the outfit you decided to wear today and the possible effect that it might have on the man you were certain was at least mildly attracted to you. Nah, you were too busy with that damn bagel. 

So, you let yourself get lost in the cantor of Jotaro’s voice as he talked about this or that regarding this biology course. Truly, you could care less. He was just spitting out everything that the professor had to say during lecture, so why bother? You had your notes and you were fairly sure you understood everything that was discussed. And if you found when you finally reviewed your notes that you had no idea what was going on, then you could go to the million review sessions that were available to you before the text. It would really be fine, absolutely no worries. And thank god, discussions were only fifty minutes. You told yourself that you were going to go back to your dorm and study after this, but you knew deep in your heart that you were going to scroll through social media for an hour, get an early lunch, and then go back to sleeping until like five, where you would rouse yourself and prepare to forget the entirety of your evening. Well… At least, that was the plan, anyway.

And that was that. Class ended without a hitch, and you slowly started to pack up your stuff. It seemed so tiring to have all these people try to cram information into your head so quickly, but alas. College was needed for basically every job industry these days, there was no way really out of it. That didn’t mean you weren’t going to complain on an almost daily basis though. You were thinking about whether or not bacon was going to be left when Jotaro’s voice cut through your thoughts, forcefully and without shame.

“(Y/n). A word after everyone clears out.” You would smirk at that, but the tone of Jotaro’s voice wasn’t what you expected. It seemed frustrated, almost angry. Oh fuck, what had you done wrong now? What possibly could you have done to get yourself in trouble, the whole time you were just sitting in the back and… Wait, was eating in class allowed? Oh no. Oh god, were you really going to get called out for fucking eating a bagel? Life was truly cruel. 

You swallowed as you watched everyone trail out of the room, silently pleading that someone stay, keep you from this nightmare that was confrontation. God, when you said you wanted Jotaro to talk to you, you didn’t mean like this! But everyone left, the door was closed behind Jotaro, and you lugged yourself over to the front of the room to sit across from his teacher’s desk. You didn't even notice how Jotaro locked the door.

“I assume you know why you’re here.” His voice seemed so careful, measured as he sat down, and for once, his piercing eyes made you shrink into your seat. But no, you couldn’t just give in and give up now! You had to be strong! Or, at least act like you were strong.

“Yeah, and I’m not sorry, it was just a bagel, dude. If you have to get your power fantasy from yelling at me for fulfilling a basic need, then maybe see a therapist.” You crossed your arms, vaguely noticing how it pulled your top just a little lower. Jotaro snorted and shook his head, actually amused at how confident you were. About the completely wrong thing, but hey. You really had the spirit.

“You really think I would give a damn about a some stupid bread? You know, I thought you were maybe playing hard to get, but maybe you’re just dense.” He replied, leaving you just a bit shocked. You were so trapped in the euphoria of bread that you forgot you were wearing clothes specifically meant to drive Jotaro wild. “You think I wouldn’t notice your little stunt. I ought to tear off that little outfit and fuck you over this counter like you deserve.” There was a certain growl in Jotaro’s voice that left your knees weak, and you struggled to keep up with the sudden change of demeanor. Maybe you didn’t know Jotaro as well as you liked to think you did, not able to read him as well as previously interpreted. Still, you did your best to pull yourself together, hoping to strike back with some semblance of wit. Even if Jotaro was expressing some sort of feelings for you, you weren’t just going to show all your cards now. Best to keep bluffing and see how the match turns out.

“If that’s what I deserve, I’m not sure I have many objections. But are you actually going to do it, or are you just going to continue to sit there and talk?” You let a smile crawl across your face as Jotaro’s expression got darker, and in what seemed to be instant, he was on the other side of the desk, his lips crashing against yours. You gasped against the kiss, allowing Jotaro to push him tongue into your mouth as his hands reached your hips, grabbing onto them tight. He remained there for a good moment, pulling away when you were finally gasping to put air back in your lungs. He just growled as he used the moment to help pull your top off, throwing it to the side as his eyes took in your form.

“Such a dirty thing, dressing up like that. You like the attention, don’t you? You should only be seen like that by me.” He leaned in to run a hand through your hair as you eagerly moved to unbutton Jotaro’s shirt, ready to get this moving as much as he was. “You’re fucking mine, no one else should be allowed to see you like that.” He replied. You just laughed and hummed as Jotaro shrugged off his coat, ready to bite back just a bit.

“Oh, I’m yours now? I don’t recall that ever being something we agreed upon. Maybe I’m missing something? Like the part where you confessed your feelings to me?” You teased, Jotaro’s freed arm wrapping around you to bring you just a bit closer. It was like if he didn’t hang onto you, you might flutter away, like sand slipping through his fingers, never to return.

“I’ll make you mine then, fuck. You don’t know what you do to me, how many nights I’ve been awake without you there. I love you, you should’ve figured that out by now.” Jotaro grumbled a bit, almost childishly. You paused for a moment, before laughing a bit, shaking your head. God, maybe the reason Jotaro was so quiet was that he never could get out his words in a cool way. When he started talking in a way that wasn’t explicitly planned out, it was almost like he was just saying the first words that came into his brain. Well, maybe he was. Who can say. 

“I know. I was just waiting for you to come out and say it. I couldn’t tell if you were shy or just denying your feelings, so I figured I would give you time in case it was the latter.” Well, that was a total lie. You just wanted a cute confession where Jotaro was all blushing and shit, but that was all out the window now anyway, so who cared?

“Liar. You just were being a sadist.” He chuckled a bit, leaving you just to roll your eyes as you slowly moved down to your knees. Well, fuck it. The two of you were horny, and if you were keeping your shirt off, you were at least going to get a little action here. 

“Maybe I am. Wouldn’t you like to know?” You replied, moving to unbuckle Jotaro’s belt. Belts? It was confusing. Either way, you got the damn thing unbuckled and moved to Jotaro’s zipper, noticing the massive bulge that was clearly straining against Jotaro’s trousers. Jotaro was a big guy, so it would make sense that it would translate to that, but still. Gulp.

“You seem nervous all of a sudden. Why’s that?” You just rolled your eyes at Jotaro’s smirk, slightly tempted to tease him further just for looking that smug at you. But no, not today. Another time, maybe, but not today. You reached and yanked down his pants and underwear without much fanfare. He let a low growl out of his throat from the action, but you were more focused on the size of Jotaro in general. What was your plan for all of this again? You weren’t sure, but mama didn’t raise no quitter. You just leaned in and wrapped your hand around the base of Jotaro’s shaft, looking up at him coyly.

“I’m not nervous at all. Don’t you worry about a thing.” You told Jotaro before leaning forward, hollowing out your cheeks and wrapping your lips around Jotaro’s cock. He immediately let out a groan and let a hand rest on top of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair but not gripping down, allowing you to adjust and set your own pace. You saw Jotaro’s blissful expression and felt just a bit of pride well up in you, knowing that you were the one who caused him that. You slowly moved your head, only being able to reach about halfway before you hit the back of your throat, your body threatening to choke on him, but you make up for it by using your hand on what your lips couldn’t reach. 

You moved at a slow, worshipful pace, taking in the expression on Jotaro’s face as well as slowly working on getting your throat to relax so you could take Jotaro deeper. You could tell he was holding himself back from making any sounds, his teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard you swore that he was going to make himself bleed. You couldn't help but rub your own legs together, unable to sate that aching heat that was pooling in your gut, leaving you to let out a small moan. The vibrations only seemed to spur Jotaro on, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips slightly. You gasped, pulling away from a moment to take a breath, before smirking up at Jotaro.

“You couldn’t help yourself, huh? I bet you would like it if I let you-” You couldn’t get your words out before Jotaro’s grip on your hair tightened, pulling you forward and back down onto his cock. You gagged as he pushed all the way back into your throat, but he just groaned, rubbing your head slightly as if to comfort you. You moaned just a little, willing your throat to loosen just a bit, letting your own fingers dig into your pants as you whimpered at the heat inside of you.

“You talk too much. Just let me… That’s it, that’s better…” Jotaro’s voice was low, akin to something almost guttural as he began to move in your mouth, holding you tight enough to keep you still, but not so tight that you couldn’t move if you truly wanted to. You did your best to stay put, at least. It was actually sort of hot to be manhandled like this, not that you would ever admit that to him. You just moaned and did your best to breathe through your nose as Jotaro had his way with you, relishing in the way his hips would stutter just a little whenever you took the initiative to use your tongue or moan on you. You felt your drool start to drip down your chin as Jotaro’s hips stuttered a bit more, and you could tell that he was close to cumming. But it seemed that right before he actually did, he quickly pulled himself out of your mouth, leaving you to sputter and gasp for a moment. But that moment didn’t last long, Jotaro easily moving forward to push you to the ground, immediately moving to pull off your pants and underwear. You squeaked as your back hit the ground, Jotaro moving in to press his lips against your neck as he pressed up against your entrance.

“Fuck, I bet you would be so tight for me.... Please, let me, I want you so badly…” Jotaro groaned, and if you were any more lost in your own lust, you might actually say yes. But, your own rationality was enough to tell you that Jotaro was far too big, and you were not in the slightest prepared.

“J-Jotaro, please… You know you’re too big, I’m not ready yet… Soon, I just got to be prepared a bit…” You replied, and although Jotaro pouted just a bit, he obliged. You moved to use your own fingers, but Jotaro quickly swatted you away, pushing one of his own inside of you. You immediately let out a soft whimper. God, Jotaro’s hands were way bigger than yours, but still, you weren’t expecting something like this. You felt your toes curl as Jotaro poked and prodded inside of you, adding another finger to help scissor you open.

“G-God, Jotaro… Feels so good, fuck…” You whined, moving to drape your arms over Jotaro’s shoulders and try to pull him closer. It was nice to feel just his skin against yours. He felt so much warmer than you, like his heat was trying to swallow you up, bring you closer to him. Whatever it was, it was working. As Jotaro slowly worked you open, you felt your knees go a bit weak, Jotaro’s lips and occasional teeth on your neck enough to make you moan. Pray to god there isn’t meant to be a class here anytime soon.

You let out a displeased grumble as Jotaro pulled his fingers out of you, your body clamping around him in an attempt to keep him inside of you. Although you were still probably shittily prepared, it was enough for you to throw out all reason as Jotaro moved back to rut against you, a low growl coming from his throat enough to make you quiver.

“Beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you.” His voice was in your ear as he threatened to nip at it, unable to control his mouth from bruising you wherever he got access. Still, you weren’t opposed to the idea of begging. If it meant getting what you wanted, you might do anything.

“F-Fuck, please, Jotaro! Need you, need you so bad! I love you, please, I love you so much, want you to fuck me, please!” You barely registered the words coming out of your mouth, but Jotaro’s eyes widened and left him almost sputtering as he pushed inside of you, groaning as your nails dug into his shoulders. He pushed in slowly, staying still as he could while you adjusted to him. There was certainly a sting from the stretch, but it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t handle. You took a deep breath and tried to regain any semblance of self you had, only for Jotaro to start moving again, and you lost your composure all over again. 

Jotaro let his nails dig into your hips hard enough to draw blood, gripping you tightly as he began to thrust into you at a brutal pace, leaving you to moan as you tried to pull Jotaro ever closer.

“Tell me that you love me. Tell me again, please. Tell me, god, tell me over and over…” Jotaro groaned, and god, you were more than happy to oblige. Who even cares if you spilled the beans first in a technical sense? Maybe you said the words first, but Jotaro was more than happy to show his affection. Hey, you weren’t about to complain about it. 

“Fuck, love you, Jotaro. Love you so much, loved you since I first saw you, fuuuck, there, feels so good, I love you, please!” You whined out, Jotaro just growling and moving faster. You tried to move, to grind your hips against Jotaro the best you could, but Jotaro just held you in place, refusing to let you move. He was content in fucking you until you could barely move at his own pace, which just so happened to be as fast as humanly possible.

“I love you too, (Y/n). You’re mine, all mine, I love you so much, don’t ever leave me. Please, say you’re mine, I’m yours!” Jotaro growled, pressing his forehead against yours in an attempt to gain just a bit more contact with you.

“All yours, Jotaro, all yours! God, I’m gonna cum, please!” You whined out, feeling your body start to tighten and flutter on Jotaro’s cock, the coil in your belly threatening to snap at any moment you would let it. Jotaro just groaned, your words spurring him on to move faster, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he felt himself coming to a close.

“Fuck, cum with me, please, fuck, gonna cum inside you, fill you up, all mine, god-!” He groaned, snapping his hips forward one last time before you felt a warm heat start to fill you up, enough to push you over the edge and leave you clawing down Jotaro’s back, your eyes rolling into your skull. 

The two of you sat like that for a while, bodies pressed against each other as the two of you caught your breath, basking in each other’s presence. After a few minutes, Jotaro finally pulled out and let his lips catch against yours, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. You heartily pressed back into it, letting yourself melt into it as the two of you shared this tender moment.But, as soon as it began, it seemed to end, with Jotaro pulling himself up and starting to redress himself. You pouted, looking up at him.

“I guess you’re not the cuddling type.” You were half teasing, crossing your arms just a little to show you were just the slightest bit upset. Jotaro just rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a fan of cuddling on dirty classroom floors, no. You should have higher standards for yourself.” He replied, leaving you only to laugh.

“You didn’t mind the floor when we were-” You teased, but Jotaro only rolled his eyes and cut you off.

“Shut up. I swear, I don’t know how I’m going to survive you as a partner.” Jotaro replied as he pulled his belt on. The comment made you pause. Partners?

“W-What do you mean by that? Are you saying we’re dating now?” You asked, feeling your cheeks start to heat up just the slightest bit.

“What else? Seriously, you don’t know how to read the room at all.” Jotaro sighed, holding his hand out to you. You paused for a moment before taking it gingerly, only to be yanked up and pulled into Jotaro’s arms. You gasped, feeling yourself pressed up against Jotaro as he held you in his arms.

“Hey. I love you, you know.” You whispered, unable to keep the words from dribbling out of your mouth. It was quick, quiet, as if you didn’t want Jotaro to hear. As if it was some big secret, or that you were afraid that his strong arms would let you go if he heard those words. But he held onto you still, keeping you close to his chest as his hand brushed through your hair. It was almost tender, in a way that made your already jelly knees weaken.

“Don’t worry. I love you too.” Jotaro replied, leaning in to press a kiss against your lips. You let your arms wrap around him, praying that this was no dream. 

But this was real, thank god, and you never felt more at home than you did right now.

[shaheenarnitipsyart]

The Feast of Monsters

This is 12th time joining @flashfictionfridayofficial ! Thanks for the interesting prompt! This story is set in 1700s, 

Word Count: 996

T/W: non

Oliver(he/him)

Alexis(he/him)

Oliver had been working for the household of the governor of Port Gold since he was a young boy. His family was managing a run-down inn in the hustle-bustle town. Fortunate for his family, and unfortunate for him, one day, a man from the governor's house took him in because Oliver was 'honest' and 'a fast runner.' Actually, Oliver did help that man the other day. Oliver caught a theft who stole a purse from him. For his family, it was a good thing that Oliver could earn more. Yet for Oliver, it was the beginning of a nightmare - well, a sort of funny one, though.

Oliver looked like an ordinary young man. He would prefer taking a nap at the beach and laugh with a rag-tag group of sailors rather than running errands. But he had a peculiar ability which he didn't appreciate at all. He could see the 'greed' of other people. Only extreme ones, of course, as everyone had a certain degree of greed. He became painfully aware of this ability when he started working at the governor's massive mansion. The governor had six hairy arms popping out from his silk coat.  His brother got a bunch of mouths with a massive mustache on his shoulders and arms. The governor's wife had four eyes on her white-coated face. Her sister had horns sticking out from her head. And many people working there had weird stuff as well. The worst part was to watch the governor's four kids growing their horns, claws, and extra arms as they got old. Oliver had seen some penny-pinching folks with four arms at his inn before. But he thought it was a normal thing for stingy people to have extra arms to keep their coins all by themselves. However, what he saw at the mansion was way worse.

Oh well, whatever... I got used to it anyways.

Oliver sighed and pulled his shirt a bit to smooth out some creases. He opened the window facing the sea, breathing in the salty air to his heart content. The sun was slowly setting, and windows and roofs of the houses reflected the sunlight like hundreds of golden mirrors. That was why this area was named Port Gold. Yet, that beautiful moment was ruined by the governor's shout. 'We are going to have a party tonight - a huge one that nobody had ever seen! Everything must be perfect!' Oh yes, that' right. Some ships have arrived, and they'll come here to feast... a feast of monsters, huh? He chuckled sarcastically. Yet, he realised that the second son of the governor would be on one of the ships. His heart sunk. Deemed as 'the stupidest,' that poor boy, Alexis, was ignored by his monstrous family. Interestingly, though, he was the only one spared from the hilarious yet miserable looks that the rest of his family suffered. Well, in the end, I'm the only one who can see those shit. Nobody cares about it. Oliver shrugged his shoulder. However, he still didn't want to see Alexis. Alexis was a curious creature, a misfit of the family. A small daydreamer, shy bookworm but unexpectedly reckless sometimes. Alexis was quite timid, so Oliver helped him out all the time. He went abroad to study a couple of years ago. 

After all, Alexis is a member of this bloody family. He could grow one or two arms already. But please, God or whatever, spare him from the extra mouths! They look too gross. Oliver shook his head and tried to concentrate on his work.

For better or worse, the nobles from the ship didn't betray Oliver's expectations. Under the crystal chandeliers, horrendous-looking creatures dressed in all sorts of silks, furs, and satins crammed in. One of the noblemen got eight arms and tried to take three ladies to dance. One lady had hair full of snakeheads sticking tongues out to other guests. And next to her was a nobleman with massive hairy feet, casually stepping on other people. This theatre of monsters is too much! 

Oliver excused himself from the dance hall and headed out to the balcony. The night breeze gently stroked his hair, and the deep blue of the night sky healed his eyes. He tried to pay attention to the subtle lullaby of the waves.

'Oliver...?' Surprised by an unfamiliar voice, Oliver looked back. '....Alexis, um, young master?' Alexis was barely recognisable apart from ash-blond hair and greenish-blue eyes. Once-a-tiny-pale-boy was now as tall as Oliver. To Oliver's relief, nothing weird growing out from him. 'Welcome back, young master. You turned into such an excellent gentleman.' Yet, Alexis looked frowned when he heard Oliver's formal greeting. Alexis looked away with a pained expression but eventually faced Oliver directly. 'So you mean that now I have extra arms or what?' 'Huh? What the hell! So you can see the hideous stuff..?' Oliver was thuderstruck. 'Had it never crossed your mind? I can see horns and arms...maybe not as vivid as yours, but still it is scary enough.' Alexis said nonchalantly. Oliver was convinced in the end. 'So that's why you asked me that people have extra arms and stuff when you were little. And when I said some people do, you stopped crying!' Alexis nodded and smiled for the first time. 'Alas, I'm so worried that I might have gotten something monstrous like the rest of my family, without realising. Dear Oliver, tell me! I'm not entirely sure...' Before Alexis finished his word, Oliver gave a friendly pat on his head. 'Nah, Alexis, don't worry about it. There's nothing.' Oliver glanced at the noisy dancehall. 'Oh well, you should get back to the dreadful dance party. Or...' 'Or?' 'Maybe we can sneak out and have a look at how your plants are doing. I've taken care of them for you.' Alexis' face was brightened up like a little child. Oliver sighed in relief. You betrayed my expectations in the best possible way.